rhinos  I  Remember 


7~  1^ 


THINGS  I  REMEMBER 


Things  I  Remember 

The  Recollections  of  a  Political 

Writer  in  the  Capitals 

of  Europe 


BY 

SIDNEY  WHITMAN 


¥ 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHBKS 


V!^- 


TO 

ANNIA 

WHOSE   DEVOTION  TO   MY  CHILDREN   ADDS 
CHERISHED  MEMORIES  TO  MY  LIFE 

s.  w. 

SeptenibeTy  1916 


44220: 


rr 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE 

In  the  active  sphere  of  life  it  is  the  personal 
element  which  tells.  The  man  whose  decisions 
are  backed  by  individuality,  whose  actions  are 
dictated  from  within  rather  than  by  external 
pressure,  is  apt  to  inspire  confidence. 

In  the  more  passive  but  certainly  not  less 
important  realm  of  writing,  it  is  the  man  behind 
the  pen  who  strikes  the  key-note.  Few  of  us 
enjoy  the  opportunity  of  getting  at  the  heart  of 
things,  but  one  who  has  been  thus  exceptionally 
favoured,  and  at  the  same  time  is  known  as  a 
serious,  discriminating  writer,  is  entitled  to 
expect  that  the  product  of  his  pen  shall  be 
worthy  of  attention. 

Sidney  Whitman  has  a  long  record  of  distin- 
guished authorship  and  journalism  to  his  credit, 
for  in  his  case  book- writing  preceded  journalism. 
A  reliable  memory  of  the  important  incidents 
and  persons  with  whom  he  was  brought  into 
contact,  as  Special  Correspondent  of  the  New 
York  Herald  in  various  capitals  of  Europe,  forms 
the  main  subject  matter  of  this  book.     The  fact 

vii 


Editor's  Preface 

that  they  extend  back  for  twenty  years  intensifies 
their  interest,  inasmuch  as  they  are  viewed  dis- 
passionately at  a  distance  by  an  exceptionally  keen 
observer  of  men  and  things,  and  thus  are  not 
without  a  certain  historical  value.  These  con- 
siderations seem  to  justify  some  information  of  a 
personal  nature  such  as  the  author  has  been  asked 
to  supply  in  the  introduction. 


VUl 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTBR 

1.  Introduction 

FAOE 
1 

2.  Some  Notabilities     .         .         .         • 

6 

3.  "  Noblesse  Oblige  " 

20 

4.  Vienna      .          .          .          . 

8S     . 

5.  Salonica  and  Constantinople  . 

50 

6.  Marienbad  and  Venice    .         .         .         , 

61 

7.  The  Spanish- American  War 

78 

8.  Bismarck's  Death     .... 

91 

9.  After  Leaving  the  "  Herald  " 

.      110 

10.  Warsaw  in  Revolt  .... 

.     127 

11.  Moscow  in  Revolution     . 

.      142 

12.  Berlin  during  the  Algeciras  Conferenci 

I     173 

18.  Parerga 

193 

14.  On  the  Brink            .... 

211 

15.  W.  T.  Stead 

228 

16.  James  Gordon  Bennett    .         .         .         , 

240  . 

17.  Conclusion        ...... 

257 

Index        

261 

LIST  OF  PLATES 

Facing  page 

Sir  Charles  Dilke 8 

Mr.  Henry  Labouchere  ....         8 

His  Excellency  Kung  (Chinese  Ambassador)      .30 
JoHANN  Strauss       ......       48 

Dr.  Theodor  Herzl        .....       48 

Prince  von  Bismarck 94 

Carmen  Sylva 118 

The  Duchess  of  Vend6me       .         .         .         .118 

Madame  Olga  Novikoff  ....     174 

Prince  Bernhard  von  Bulow         .         .         .174 
Alphonse  Daudet  .  .         .         .         .  .198 

M.  Blowitz     .......     198 

Mr.  W.  T.  Stead 232 


THINGS    I    REMEMBER 


CHAPTER   I 

INTRODUCTION 

La  m^moire  des  hommes  n'est  qu'un  imperceptible  trait  du 
sillon  que  chacun  de  nous  laisse  au  sein  de  rinfini.  Elle  n'est 
pas  cependant  chose  vaine. — Ernest  Renan. 

Inclination  has  made  me  an  observer  of  my 
fellows,  a  recorder  of  the  things  they  have  said, 
and  a  student  of  national  movement.  Circum- 
stance, rather  than  any  strong  wish  of  my  own, 
has  brought  me  into  contact  with  some  remarkable 
men  on  the  Continent  and  at  home.  Leisure  and, 
finally,  journalism  have  caused  me  to  travel  much 
in  foreign  countries. 

I  have  roamed  through  Germany,  Austria, 
Italy,  Norway,  Turkey,  Russia  and  parts  of  Asia — 
on  several  occasions  at  critical  moments  when  his- 
tory was  in  the  making.  The  contents  of  this 
volume  are  more  especially  concerned  with  my 
experiences  as  a  journalist,  most  of  which  were 
gained  as  special  correspondent  of  the  New  York 
Herald  in  London  and  elsewhere. 

My  entry  into  the  ranks  of  journalism  was  due 
to  a  suggestion  made  by  Count  Herbert  Bismarck 


Ttiings  I  Remember 

to  Mr.  James  Gordon  Bennett,  the  proprietor  of 
the  New  York  Herald,  If  I  revert  to  it  again  it 
is  because  the  circumstances  were  somewhat  excep- 
tional, and  certainly  throw  a  suggestive  light  on 
the  relative  possibilities  of  book  authorship  and 
journalism.  I  had  already  contributed  to  some  of 
the  leading  periodicals  of  England,  the  Continent 
and  the  United  States,  besides  being  the  author 
of  several  books  on  political  subjects,  every  one  of 
which  had  been  translated  into  another  language. 
Three  of  them  had  found  a  place  in  the  Tauchnitz 
edition  of  British  Authors.  Yet,  even  with  this 
record,  as  I  was  destined  to  find  out,  it  was  by 
no  means  clear  that  I  should  be  able  to  earn  a 
modest  livelihood  as  a  journalist. 

About  Christmas,  1894,  Mr.  Bennett  invited 
me  to  come  to  Paris  to  see  him.  He  suggested 
that  I  should  begin  my  duties  by  writing  short 
leading  articles — so-called  editorials — and  post 
them  on  for  his  approval  direct  to  his  private 
address.  I  did  this  every  day  for  several  wxeks 
without  receiving  any  notification  whether  my 
work  was  satisfactory,  let  alone  whether  it  had 
appeared  in  the  Paris  edition  of  the  paper. 
Depressed  and  discouraged,  I  wrote  to  Mr. 
Bennett  offering  to  relinquish  my  task.  For- 
tunately, as  it  turned  out,  I  kept  my  letter 
back  overnight,  and  the  very  next  morning's  post 
brought  me  a  note  from  him  informing  me  that 
he  was  well  pleased  with  the  last  communication 
he  had  received  from  me,   in  which,   as  a  final 


Introduction 

attempt,  I  had  enclosed  three  separate  editorials 
knocked  off  at  a  sitting.  Mr.  Bennett  added  that 
I  would  find  them  all  three  printed  together  in 
that  day's  number  of  the  Herald,  and  instructed 
me  to  continue  on  those  lines  and  supply  an 
editorial  every  day,  Sunday  included.  I  was  to 
deliver  my  work  to  the  Herald  office  in  Fleet 
Street  every  evening,  to  be  sent  over  by  wire  to 
Paris.  This  I  did  for  several  months  without 
once  missing  a  single  day. 

In  course  of  time  my  duties  extended  in  various 
directions.  I  would  receive  telegrams  from  Mr. 
Bennett  instructing  me  to  attend  to  all  sorts  of 
journalistic  work  :  interviewing  eminent  politicians, 
foreign  diplomats,  princes  of  the  Church,  chancel- 
lors, lord  chief  justices,  cranks,  faddists,  inventors, 
doctors,  savants,  actresses.  City  magnates ;  besides 
calling  regularly  at  the  Foreign  Office  in  quest  of 
any  exceptional  item  of  news,  I  now  and  then  had 
to  attend  the  Law  Courts.  It  even  fell  to  my  lot  to 
write  a  descriptive  article  on  the  Australian  convict 
ship.  The  Success,  which  was  lying  in  the  Thames. 
Thus  my  contributions  to  the  Herald,  portions  of 
which  were  cabled  direct  to  New  York  from  the 
London  office,  finally  reached  an  average  of  about 
ten  columns  of  matter  a  week.  There  was  only 
one  speciality  to  which  I  was  not  expected  to 
attend.  This  was  the  various  cat  shows  and  dog 
shows  of  the  London  season,  in  which  Mr.  Bennett 
always  evinced  a  strong  interest.  An  expert  was 
always  requisitioned  to  deal  with  these. 

3 


Things  I  Remember 

As  representative  of  a  paper  so  widely  known, 
every  door  seemed  to  stand  open  to  one  who 
held  a  key  of  the  temple  of  the  great  god 
Publicity.  I  was  met  with  courtesy  everywhere; 
in  some  places  even  with  cordiality  and  kindness, 
which  subsequently  ripened  into  personal  friend- 
ship. The  attitude  of  condescension,  so  marked 
a  feature  of  our  conventional  conditions  of  life, 
was  never  once  adopted  towards  the  representa- 
tive of  the  Herald,  whose  personal  status  seemed 
to  be  enhanced  by  the  assumption  that  he  was 
an  American.  For  the  English  and  the  Germans 
are,  strange  to  say,  the  only  people  I  have  met 
who  seem  to  feel  less  sympathetically  towards 
those  of  their  own  nationality  than  they  do  towards 
aliens,  particularly  when  the  latter  are  able  to  put 
forth  some  tinsel  claim  to  their  regard. 

As  I  look  back  on  many  of  my  experiences  I 
recall  little  more  tangible  than  the  passing  of 
sundry  groups  of  marionettes,  which  were  bowed 
down  to  during  their  short  stay  as  they  danced 
through  life,  and  which  have  since  dropped 
through  the  trap-door  of  death  into  oblivion.  The 
ephemeral  necessarily  plays  a  great  part  in  the  life 
of  the  newspaper  man.  He  comes  into  contact 
with  much  that  is  interesting  for  no  more  than 
the  day  which  is  the  life  of  his  paper;  but  he 
touches  life  in  its  every  aspect,  and  in  these  pages 
I  endeavour  to  set  down  some  experiences  of  my 
own  which  have  more  than  transitory  value  in 
their  bearing  on  men  and  things,  and,  if  I  may 

4 


Introduction 

venture  to  say  so,  should  form  a  modest  contri- 
bution to  the  tragi-comedy  of  our  time. 

It  falls  to  the  journalist,  as  perhaps  to  no 
other  professional  man,  to  observe  and  ultimately 
to  shape  and  influence  public  opinion.  A  great 
thinker  has  defined  the  newspaper  as  the  "  seconds 
hand  "  of  history,  though  he  is  careful  to  add  that 
it  does  not  always  mark  correct  time,  and  in  its 
efforts  to  be  emphatic  is  liable  to  exaggeration. 
Verily  the  influence  of  a  single  journalist  may 
prove  to  be  greater  than  that  of  a  whole  genera- 
tion of  routine-drilled  diplomats.  Instances  which 
bear  out  that  opinion  belong  to  the  current  history 
of  journalism.  Such  a  power  impUes  a  grave 
responsibility  on  the  part  of  those  who  wield  it. 
They  should  work  in  the  spirit  of  Terence — 
''  Homo  sum  et  nihil  humani  a  me  alienum  puto." 


CHAPTER   II 

SOME   NOTABILITIES 

My  journalistic  work  brought  me  into  frequent 
contact  with  Sir  Charles  Dilke,  whose  personal 
acquaintance,  however,  I  had  made  some  years 
previously. 

I  used  to  see  him  comparatively  often,  either 
at  his  house  in  Sloane  Street,  or  he  would  drive 
with  me  from  his  house  in  his  brougham  to  the 
House  of  Commons,  for  he  was  always  ready  to 
be  interviewed  and  to  give  his  views  on  current 
events.  Indeed,  I  have  only  met  one  man  so 
willing  to  talk  on  the  subjects  which  interested 
him.  This  was  a  German  prince,  a  member  of 
tjie  Reichstag,  who  on  one  occasion  (1896),  having 
caught  me  in  his  toils  in  that  building,  took  me 
to  a  private  room,  and  locked  the  door  behind  us,  so 
as  to  make  sure  that  we  should  not  be  disturbed 
whilst  he  gave  me  his  views  on  the  Universe,  with 
Berlin  as  its  driving  centre. 

Few,  if  any,  of  the  men  whom  I  have  met  in 
a  long  contact  with  leaders  of  public  thought 
combined,  as  did  Sir  Charles  Dilke,  encyclopaedic 
knowledge  with  a  very  high  development  of 
balanced  individual  judgment.     He  had  travelled 

6 


Sir  Charles  Dilke 

far,  and  with  a  set  purpose.  He  was  familiar 
with  out-of-the-way  corners  of  the  Empire;  his 
acquaintance  with  Continental  politics  and  with 
the  men  who  moulded  them  was  close  and 
accurate.  He  had  read  deeply,  and  in  more 
languages  than  his  own.  He  was  cosmopolitan 
in  knowledge  while  intensely  English  at  heart. 
In  his  book,  "  Greater  Britain,"  he  advocated 
that  closer  union  of  all  the  parts  of  the  Empire 
which  has  become  a  practical  question  in  the 
realms  of  statesmanship,  mainly  in  consequence 
of  the  outpouring  of  the  blood  of  the  daughter- 
peoples  which  has  been  so  terrible  a  feature  of 
the  world  struggle  precipitated  in  1914.  Dilke 
was  no  ordinary  visionary.  His  dreams  were  based 
upon  practical  acquaintance  with  the  great  issues 
that  move  peoples.  Long  before  the  Entente 
between  England  and  France  had  come  into 
the  range  of  politics  he  was  the  warm  supporter 
of  such  an  understanding  between  the  two 
nations. 

With  all  the  attraction  that  he  found  in 
pohtical  matters — which  enabled  one  to  talk  to 
him  about  Continental  movements  as  one  would 
with  a  statesman  actually  immersed  in  them  from 
day  to  day — he  found  time  for  literary  pursuits, 
as  well  as  for  those  sports  by  which  he  kept  his 
strong,  lithe  frame  in  the  pink  of  condition.  Of 
the  poet  Keats  he  made  in  particular  a  study,  and 
possessed  a  fine  collection  of  both  manuscripts 
and  rare  editions  of  the   works  of  that  genius. 

7 


Things  I  Remember 

Athletics  were  to  him  at  once  a  hobby  and  the 
means  of  keeping  himself  in  perfect  training.  He 
boxed,  he  rode,  he  fenced — indeed,  in  his  younger 
days  he  was  one  of  the  few  EngUshmen  who  had 
any  real  knowledge  of  the  foil  and  epee.  Perhaps 
his  love  of  rowing  remained  with  him  the  longest, 
and  when  comparatively  well  advanced  in  years 
he  would  go  for  long  pulls  on  the  river — ^not 
the  idle  and  pleasurable  sculling  of  the  average 
frequenter  of  the  Thames,  but  real  work  at  speed 
in  an  outrigger.  More  than  once  I  suggested  to 
him  that  he  should  be  careful — that,  powerful  as 
he  was,  rowing  when  past  the  prime  of  life  in- 
volved a  great  strain  on  the  heart.  He  would 
make  light  of  such  talk ;  but,  for  a  man  of  his 
remarkable  physique,  he  did  not  live  to  a  great 
age. 

To  myself  Sir  Charles  Dilke  proved  an 
educator.  My  friendship  with  James  Anthony 
Froude  had  been  the  means  of  correcting  many 
surface  impressions  I  had  obtained  as  to  the  real 
value  and  significance  of  prominent  men  and 
movements,  but  the  frank  conversation  of  Sir 
Charles  Dilke  carried  the  process  a  step  farther. 
Approaching  him  as  one  whose  long  residence  on 
the  Continent  had  prevented  me  from  keeping  in 
touch  with  intellectual  movements  at  home,  I 
questioned  him  as  to  the  current  estimates  of  this 
scholar,  that  writer,  or  a  particular  statesman. 
No  man  could  have  been  kinder  or  more  stimu- 
lating in  his  replies.    Some  of  the  views  expressed 

8 


••••••    • 


•••  • 


•    .   .    •••••  ••••.•»  * 

'„• , » ,  :•>  I  •   •,»,•..  ••  -.  •• 


A  Kindly  Thought 

during  these  conversations  were  startling  enough, 
but  I  had  good  reason  to  feel  grateful  for  the 
help  his  singularly  lucid  mind  afforded  me.  He 
taught  me,  above  all  else,  to  be  shy  of  accepting 
prevailing  estimates  of  men,  to  examine  for 
myself,  to  trust  the  eyes  with  which  Nature  had 
endowed  me,  and  to  form  my  own  independent 
judgments  rather  than  accept  the  opinions  of 
others  at  second  hand. 

One  personal  instance  of  his  kindness  of 
heart  comes  to  me  in  connection  with  literary 
criticisms  in  the  Press.  When  I  told  him  that 
the  AthendBum  had  attacked  a  book  of  mine,  and 
had  declared  that  I  knew  nothing  authentic  about 
my  subject,  whereas  some  high  authorities  in  the 
country  I  had  dealt  with  thought  otherwise,  he 
smiled  good-naturedly  and  suggested  that  when  I 
had  written  another  book  I  should  send  a  review 
copy  direct  to  him.  He  would  see  that  I  received 
fair  treatment  at  the  hands  of  the  literary  organ 
of  which  he  was  part  proprietor.  I  did  not  take 
advantage  of  his  kind  suggestion,  but  nevertheless 
bear  it  in  grateful  memory. 

While  ready,  and  even  eager,  to  talk  at  any 
time  on  politics  and  literature.  Sir  Charles  Dilke 
impressed  me  as  a  man  of  naturally  reserved  dis- 
position. Yet  he  certainly  possessed  the  gift  of 
attracting  the  admiration  and  attachment  of  those 
who  were  about  him.  The  devotion  of  Lady 
Dilke  to  her  husband  was  apparent  to  even  the 
casual  visitor  to  the  house,  shown  as  it  was  in  the 


Things  I  Remember 

keen  interest  with  which  she  followed  his  con- 
versation. Her  pride  in  his  intellectual  grasp,  her 
frank  belief  in  the  universality  of  his  knowledge, 
were  obvious,  and  the  more  noticeable  as  she  was 
herself  a  woman  of  far  more  than  average  capacity 
and  a  figure  in  many  social  movements.  Her 
help  and  sympathy  must  have  been  of  the  utmost 
value  to  Sir  Charles  in  the  dark  years  through 
which  he  had  to  pass,  and  during  which  he 
experienced  all  the  fickleness  of  public  favour. 
That  trial  softened  and  chastened  his  character  and 
made  him  more  tolerant  and  more  sympathetic. 
It  gave  him,  too,  abundant  leisure  for  the  pursuit 
of  those  branches  of  knowledge  which  he  culti- 
vated and  brought  him  back  to  public  life  with 
ripened  judgment  and  wider  experience.  The 
tragedy  of  his  last  years  was  that,  although  he 
stood  head  and  shoulders  above  the  average 
member  of  Parliament  in  his  familiarity  with 
almost  every  question  of  the  day,  he  was  shut  out 
from  much  effective  work  which  might  have  been 
of  vast  value  to  the  commonweal. 

Cardinal  Vaughan,  Archbishop  of  Westmin- 
ster, was  another  of  the  eminent  and  sympathetic 
men  with  whom  journalism  brought  me  into  con- 
tact. The  late  Mr.  Kegan  Paul— a  fervent  Roman 
Catholic — gave  me  an  introduction  to  him  when 
I  sought  to  interview  His  Eminence.  The  recep- 
tion I  met  with  was  of  so  sympathetic  a  nature 
that  I  never  missed  an  opportunity,  when  distin- 

lO 


A  Gall  on  Cardinal  Vaughan 

guished  Roman  Catholics  of  my  acquaintance 
came  to  London,  of  taking  them  to  pay  their 
respects  to  the  Cardinal ;  an  attention  which 
some  might  have  deemed  an  intrusion,  but 
which  afforded  him  pleasure.  In  the  atmo- 
sphere of  haste  and  hurry  which  pervades  our 
everyday  life  it  was  a  revelation  to  witness  the 
feeling  of  homage  and  veneration  which  this 
stately  Prince  of  the  Church  inspired  in  one 
and  all. 

One  morning  I  arrived  at  Carlisle  Place  with 
a  foreign  lady  whose  visit  I  had  previously  an- 
nounced to  His  Eminence  by  letter.  In  mounting 
the  staircase  to  the  throne  room  I  noticed  the 
Cardinal  coming  downstairs,  and  drew  aside,  with- 
out addressing  him,  so  as  to  let  him  pass.  When, 
shortly  afterwards,  our  arrival  had  been  formally 
announced  to  him,  he  entered  the  room  and 
came  toward  us,  holding  out  his  hand  with  a 
kindly  smile,  saying  :  "  Mr.  Whitman,  didn't  I 
pass  you  on  the  staircase?  Why  didn't  you  speak 
to  me?"  "  I  did  not  venture  to  waylay  your 
Eminence."  ''Oh,  nonsense!"  he  replied,  and 
added  the  following  characteristic  instruction : 
''  If  you  wish  to  see  me  before  nine  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  let  me 
know  in  advance,  as  I  am  sure  to  be  here  and 
shall  always  be  pleased  to  receive  you.  If,  how- 
ever, you  intend  to  come  after  that  hour,  you  had 
better  send  me  a  line  the  day  before,  so  that  I 
need  not  keep  you  waiting." 

u 


Things  I  Remember 

This  little  trait  seems  to  me  to  be  of  some 
significance  in  explaining  the  strong  personal 
hold  which  many  high  Roman  Catholic  dignitaries 
retain  over  their  followers — a  human  tie  of  sym- 
pathy from  which  much  might  be  learned  by 
others,  even  by  those  among  us  who  are  in  the 
habit  of  going  to  church. 

I  had  seen  Cardinal  Vaughan  some  years 
previously  at  a  reception  in  the  Foreign  Office, 
and  as  he  moved  among  the  immense  throng 
he  struck  me  as  one  of  the  most  distinguished- 
looking  of  a  company  which  included  members  of 
the  Royal  Family.  His  noble  countenance,  when 
smiling,  shone  with  that  radiance  which  is  only 
given  to  those  endowed  with  what  one  of  the 
hardest  of  thinkers  has  pronounced  to  be  more 
worthy  of  reverence  than  the  highest  gifts  of 
the  intellect — the  greatness  of  a  human  heart. 
Benevolence  beamed  in  his  face.  The  whole  per- 
sonality of  this  aristocratic  Englishman  revealed 
the  influence  of  Southern  skies — of  that  Italy, 
with  its  history  of  two  thousand  years,  which 
makes  it  possible  for  a  Pope  to  hail  from  a 
peasant's  hut  and  yet  to  retain  more  than  the 
dignity  of  a  monarch  in  his  bearing — more  human 
simplicity  than  is  occasionally  seen  in  a  whole 
gathering  of  philosophers,  theologians  and  pro- 
fessors. 

I  was  also  brought  mto  relations  with  the 
Chinese  Minister  in  London  in  connection  with 

13 


The  Chinese  Ambassador 

some  sensational  report  of  missionary  trouble  in 
China.  It  was  my  first  contact  with  anybody  of 
Chinese  race  or  nationality,  and  His  Excellency, 
who  rejoiced  in  the  name  of  Kung,  remains  in  my 
memory  as  one  of  the  most  refined  and  most  kindly 
disposed  men  it  has  been  my  privilege  to  meet. 
Altogether,  the  demeanour  of  the  staff  of  the 
Legation,  and  of  everyone  connected  with  the 
Chinese  Embassy,  raised  an  awful  suspicion  in 
my  mind  whether,  after  all,  it  was  possible  that 
some  of  our  current  notions  with  regard  to  the 
Chinese,  as  well  as  to  sundry  other  distant  nation- 
alities and  races,  might  not  occasionally  lean 
toward  what  Herbert  Spencer  terms  "patriotic 
bias,"  not  to  say  downright  ignorance  and 
prejudice. 

All  I  did  was  to  call  several  times  at  the 
Legation  in  Portland  Place,  and  take  down 
notes  of  what  I  was  told  in  connection  with  this 
missionary  matter  and  send  it  on  to  the  New 
York  Herald  office.  Yet  it  was  as  if  I  had 
rendered  China  some  signal  service  for  which  the 
Legation  could  not  show  sufficient  appreciation. 
His  Excellency  sent  my  wife  some  exquisite  tea, 
and,  not  content  with  this  attention,  one  Sunday 
afternoon  he  called  on  us  with  several  gentlemen 
of  his  suite,  and  took  tea  in  the  garden  of  our 
modest  little  house  in  Kensington :  the  neigh- 
bours all  agog  at  the  unusual  sight  of  two 
"  ambassadorial  "  carriages  waiting  by  the  hour 
in  that  not  ultra-fashionable  part  of  the  metro- 

13 


Things  I  Remember 

polls.  His  Excellency  subsequently  presented  us 
with  a  large  coloured  photograph  of  his  wife  and 
family,  on  the  margin  of  which  he  had  written 
an  inscription  in  Chinese  characters,  to  which  one 
of  the  staff  of  the  Legation  had  added  a  French 
translation. 

The  following  is  a  verbal  rendering  of  its  con- 
tents in  English : 

"  This  family  photograph  arrived  at  the 
beginning  of  the  summer,  together  with  a  letter 
from  my  family,  which  resides  at  Yang-Tchean. 
My  eldest  son  was  at  Shanghai  at  the  time,  and 
the  younger  was  retained  at  Peking  for  his 
examination  at  the  Academy  des  Belles  Lettres. 
Consequently,  neither  they  nor  my  two  daughters- 
in-law  figure  in  the  group. 

''  The  children  who  are  grouped  round  my 
wife  are  my  two  grandsons  and  my  two  grand- 
daughters. 

"  Last  year,  by  order  of  my  august  Sovereign, 
I  was  sent  to  Europe  with  the  qualifications  of 
Minister  Plenipotentiary.  When  I  arrived  in 
Paris  a  telegram  informed  me  of  the  happy  birth 
of  my  second  grandson.  Reckoning  the  time 
which  has  passed  since,  he  must  be  now  exactly 
one  year  old.  He  is  seen  on  the  picture  in  the 
arms  of  his  grandmother.  During  my  stay  in 
Europe,  at  this  great  distance  from  my  native 
land,  I  cannot  help  from  time  to  time  thinking 
affectionately  of  my  dear  children.    As  my  friends, 

14 


In  the  Realm  of  Art 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Whitman,  admired  the  photograph, 
I  have  great  pleasure  in  offering  them  a  copy. 

*'  The  Imperial  Chinese  Legation, 

*'  London,  W. 

"  In  the  intercalary  Moon  of  the  21st  year  of  the  reign  of 
Konang-Su  (July,  1895)." 

The  death  of  Sir  John  Everett  Millais,  the 
President  of  the  Royal  Academy,  was  immediately 
followed  by  an  outburst  in  the  Press  depreciating 
the  artistic  value  of  his  work.  There  was  nothing 
unfamiliar  in  such  manifestation.  Few  of  the 
great  art  reputations  made  in  the  Victorian  era 
have  survived,  and  the  successive  passing  of  men 
who  had  held  their  places  on  the  line  in  the  Royal 
Academy  was  in  almost  every  case  attended  by 
scathing  criticism  of  work  once  accounted  worthy. 
The  exceptions  were  those  of  men  whose  fame 
had  gone  down  in  darkness  and  eclipse  long 
before  they  had  ceased  to  paint.  New  ideas  were 
astir  in  the  art  world.  New  schools  were  being 
created,  all  differing  in  themselves,  but  all  alike 
in  challenging  the  art  which  had  won  academic 
distinction.  Such  a  phenomenon  is  familiar 
enough  to  students  of  history  as  foreshadowing 
some  upheaval  in  human  affairs.  But  the  case  of 
Sir  John  Millais  presented  exceptional  features. 
We  may  find  its  parallel  in  the  period  immediately 
preceding  the  French  Revolution.  The  funeral  of 
Voltaire  was  attended  by  wonderful  demonstra- 

15 


Things  I  Remember 

tions  of  respect  and  grief,  but  from  that  day 
France  and  the  world  began  to  neglect  his 
memory. 

Millais  was  accused  of  having  held  his  talent  at 
the  bidding  of  anybody  who  cared  to  pay  for  his 
work.  The  chief  instance  cited  against  him  was 
that  of  supplying  a  soap-maker  with  a  picture 
which  had  been  reproduced  as  an  oleograph,  and 
thus  vulgarised  for  purposes  of  advertisement. 
The  fact  was  apparently  lost  sight  of  that  in  this 
particular  instance  the  work  of  Millais'  genius 
was  brought  within  the  ken  of  the  million,  and 
the  fine  reproductions  of  his  picture  did  more  to 
familiarise  the  people  with  the  beautiful  than  the 
contents  of  many  private  picture  galleries  never 
open  to  public  inspection.  Millais  himself,  with 
his  strong  common  sense,  was  alive  to  this  side 
of  the  question,  as  shown  by  letters  since  made 
public.  If  there  be  cause  for  criticism  in  what 
he  did,  it  is  passing  strange  that  it  did  not  occur 
to  Millais'  critics  to  divide  the  blame  or  censure 
between  him  and  the  spirit  of  an  age  which  was 
largely  responsible  for  the  state  of  things  amid 
which  he  pUed,  what  he  himself  might  have 
termed,  his  trade.  For  in  one  of  his  last  letters 
written  to  a  friend  of  mine  he  complained  bitterly 
"that  business  was  bad."  The  idea  that  a 
successful  man  of  genius  should  have  applied 
such  a  phrase  to  his  exalted  profession  is  not 
without  a  touch  of  tragedy.  But  it  was  Millais' 
fate  in  after  life  to  have  to  pander  to  the  taste 

i6 


A  Gall  on  Burne-Jones 

of  a  society  which  had  largely  lost  the  feeling 
for  art  which  had  distinguished  the  generations 
that  patronised  Holbein,  Van  Dyck,  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  and  other  masters  of  the  brush  whose 
work  lives  in  our  chief  private  and  public  collec- 
tions. To  Van  Dyck  the  Stuarts  owe  whatever 
of  them  is  immortal,  but  in  the  age  in  which 
Millais  lived  the  Royal  Family  was  finding  its 
Court  painters  in  foreigners,  to  the  neglect  of 
native  genius.  Millais,  moreover,  was  the  victim 
of  a  society  which  insisted  that  the  painters  whom 
it  favoured  should  live  an  expensive  life  in  a 
fashionable  neighbourhood  on  pain  of  forfeiting 
recognition  and  patronage.  In  such  circumstances 
high  art  does  not  flourish.  The  strivings  of 
genius  have  to  be  restrained  by  the  necessity  of 
earning  a  big  income. 

Commissioned  to  obtain  the  opinion  of  lead- 
ing English  artists  on  the  .matter,  I  called  upon 
Sir  Edward  Burne-Jones  at  his  studio  in  West 
Kensington.  Admittedly  one  of  the  greatest  of 
English  artists  of  the  Victorian  era,  imbued  with 
a  sincerity  of  purpose  which  bade  him  decline 
every  temptation  to  swerve  from  his  ideals,  his 
opinion  on  such  a  point  was  likely  to  be  at  once 
unbiased  and  frank.  I  had  reached  the  signifi- 
cance of  Sir  Edward  Burne-Jones 's  work  from  the 
talk  of  my  friend,  Franz  von  Lenbach,  when  on 
a  visit  to  me  in  London.  To  his  kindness  I  owe 
whatever  little  understanding  I  may  possess  of 
pictorial  art.     Lenbach  had  said  to  me  :  *'Burne- 

c  17 


Things  I  Remember 

Jones  is  pre-eminent  among  living  artists  for  the 
sincerity  of  his  artistic  creed  and  the  great  talent 
with  which  he  has  realised  his  ideal.  You  should 
seek  his  acquaintance,  and  profit  by  it."  Thus 
I  was  delighted  with  this  opportunity  of  meeting 
and  conversing  with  one  in  whose  marked  features 
and  deep-set  blue  eyes  were  reflected  the  full 
earnestness  and  spirituality  which  one  found  in 
his  pictures. 

His  reply  to  the  question  what  he  thought  of 
this  controversy  was  characteristic  of  the  man 
and  not  without  significance  in  its  bearing  on  the 
period  :  "  Millais  was  a  dear  friend  of  mine,  whose 
lovable  disposition  endeared  him  to  everybody  and 
whose  genius  was  beyond  dispute.  I  have  always 
felt  the  greatest  admiration  for  him  as  an  artist 
and  as  a  man.  What  people  may  write  about 
him  in  the  newspapers  does  not  interest  me,  for 
when  I  tell  you  that  during  the  last  thirty  years 
I  have  not  read  a  single  line  of  what  they  may 
have  said  about  myself,  I  am  sure  you  will  not 
think  it  strange  that  I  have  omitted  to  take  notice 
of  what  they  have  to  cavil  about  in  my  poor 
friend."  I  sent  this  short  communication  to  the 
Herald,  with  a  brief  description  of  my  visit  and 
the  impression  which  the  distinguished  painter 
and  his  surroundings  had  made  on  me,  and  I  also 
sent  a  copy  of  the  paper  to  him  with  my  com- 
pliments. A  few  days  later  I  ran  up  against  Sir 
Edward,  by  chance,  at  Hyde  Park  Corner.  He 
thanked  me   for   the   paper,    and    expressed   his 

18 


In  G.  F.  Watts'  Studio 

satisfaction  with  what  it  contained.  Encouraged 
by  his  kindly  manner,  I  asked  him  whether  I 
might  venture  to  send  a  photograph  of  himself 
for  his  signature,  a  request  which  he  immediately 
granted.  Alas  !  within  a  few  days  he  passed  away. 
Shortly  afterwards  I  was  agreeably  surprised  by 
the  receipt  of  a  letter  from  his  son,  Sir  Philip 
Burne- Jones,  returning  the  photograph  which  his 
father  had  signed  before  his  death. 

I  owe  it  to  the  kindness  of  the  late  Lord 
Ronald  Sutherland  Gower  that  I  was  able  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  the  last  of  the  great  English 
painters  of  the  Victorian  era,  Mr.  G.  F.  Watts, 
to  whose  studio  in  Melbury  Road  he  took  me  one 
afternoon.  Although  nearly  eighty  years  of  age, 
he  was  still  hard  at  work,  and  at  that  particular 
moment  was  busy  on  the  model  of  his  well-known 
colossal  equestrian  statue,  "  Physical  Energy," 
which  was  set  up  in  a  special  room  adjoining  his 
studio,  and  is  now  to  be  seen  in  Kensington 
Gardens. 

He,  too,  was  a  man  of  singular  refinement, 
simplicity  and  charm  of  manner,  and  I  still  hold 
among  my  pleasant  memories  an  occasion  which 
also  gave  me  the  acquaintance  of  his  charming 
wife  and  of  Madame  Albani,  the  famous  singer, 
who  took  tea  with  us. 


IQ 


CHAPTER   III 

''noblesse   oblige" 

Friendly  intercourse  with  Sir  Charles  Dilke  had 
been  fraught  with  instruction  to  the  mind;  the 
acquaintance  with  Cardinal  Vaughan  and  the 
Chinese  Minister  had  quickened  the  sense  of 
the  value  of  human  sympathy.  In  Sir  Edward 
Burne-Jones  I  had  occasion  to  admire  the 
sincerity  of  a  great  artist,  whilst  my  relations 
with  Lord  Ronald  Sutherland  Gower  were 
scarcely  less  stimulating.  They  afforded  me 
an  insight  into  the  world  of  appearances,  if  only 
by  enabling  me  to  mark  the  contrast  between 
the  surface  and  the  solid,  the  genuine  and  the 
pastiche,  the  conventional  and  the  make-believe. 
And  this  should  not  be  rated  lightly,  for  we 
have  it  on  the  authority  of  one  of  the  greatest 
thinkers  that  a  large  proportion  of  mankind  is 
dominated  by  appearances.  Thus,  whereas  the 
most  important  assets  of  a  man  must  naturally 
consist,  firstly,  in  what  he  is — in  personality,  in 
health,  strength,  physical  advantages,  tempera- 
mental disposition,  moral  character,  and  the 
cultivated  heart  and  mind;  secondly,  in  what 
he  is   entitled   to   call   his   own   in   the   way   of 

20 


Edward  VII.  as  Prince 

portable  property  and  worldly  possessions  gener- 
ally— the  one  aim  in  life  of  many  of  us  would 
seem,  alas!  to  be  focused  upon  what  we  appear 
to  be  in  the  eyes  of  our  fellow-men :  on  titular 
distinctions,  dress,  every  kind  of  appurtenances, 
trappings  and  stage  properties;  in  other  words, 
on  appearances.  To  these  they  are  capable  of 
sacrificing  almost  everything  else. 

The  circumstances  to  which  I  owe  my 
enhghtening  experiences  in  these  matters,  and  all 
the  pleasant  recollections  subsequently  connected 
therewith,  strike  me  to-day  as  being  of  fuller 
import  than  I  realised  at  the  time. 

An  article  had  appeared  in  The  Tailor  and 
Cutter  discussing  the  question  whether  the  tall, 
cylindrical  silk  hat  was  to  maintain  its  aristocratic 
status,  or  whether  the  bowler,  the  deerstalker  or 
"  billycock  "  was  to  be  allowed  to  compete  with 
it  and — oh,  sacrilege ! — perhaps  to  supersede  it ! 
Letters  had  appeared  in  the  papers  ventilating 
the  various  views,  and  a  clear  line  of  division 
could  be  traced  between  the  writers.  The  Prince 
of  Wales,  afterwards  Edward  VII.,  as  the  supreme 
arbiter  of  fashion,  backed  by  the  sworn  allegiance 
of  all  the  leading  hatters  of  the  West  End,  was 
reported  to  be  in  favour  of  the  retention  of  the 
silk  hat  as  the  head-covering  de  rigueur;  whereas 
Lord  Ronald  Sutherland  Gower  had  written  to 
the  papers  in  favour  of  its  supersession  by  the 
''bowler,"  and  he,  it  was  said,  could  reckon  on 
the  support  of  the  artistic,  dramatic  and  Bohemian 

21 


Things  I  Remember 

fraternity  generally.  The  matter  had  gone  beyond 
purely  insular  dimensions.  Cable  messages  from 
New  York  had  come  to  the  Herald  that  the 
tremor  of  impending  revolutionary  change  had 
caused  a  commotion  among  the  hatters'  fraternity 
in  Broadway.  It  is  almost  imperative  to  throw 
our  thoughts  back  and  take  a  sweeping  retrospec- 
tive view  of  certain  mental  and  social  conditions 
prevailing  among  us  in  the  latter  Victorian  era 
in  order  to  grasp  the  serious  nature  of  the 
situation  created  by  the  raising  of  this  important 
question. 

As  Correspondent  of  the  Herald,  I  received 
instructions  to  report  on  the  matter  forthwith, 
and,  as  is  the  rule  with  that  broad-minded  paper, 
to  give  both  sides  the  fullest  possible  hearing. 
This  I  proceeded  to  do,  with  the  result  that  I 
gained  an  extensive  knowledge  of  hat  lore  and 
one  of  the  most  delightful  of  men  as  a  personal 
friend.  As  a  preliminary  I  interviewed  the  head 
of  the  renowned  Piccadilly  firm  of  Lincoln  and 
Bennett,  and  then  the  chief  of  the  still  more 
famous  house  of  Locke,  in  St.  James's  Street, 
from  which,  as  I  was  proudly  informed,  the 
former  was  a  mere  belated  offshoot.  But  the  key 
of  the  situation  was  to  obtain  the  views  of  the 
august  leaders  of  the  movement  for  the  Herald. 
Not  venturing  to  intrude  upon  Marlborough 
House,  I  called  upon  Lord  Ronald  Sutherland 
Gower,  was  received  in  the  most  courteous 
manner  possible,  and  I  gave  the  Herald  the  full 

22 


Lord  Ronald  Sutherland  Gower 

benefit  of  it  all.  His  Lordship  was  amiability 
itself,  but  adamantine  in  his  championship  of  the 
bowler,  although,  as  he  told  me,  the  Prince  of 
Wales  was  strong  and  persistent  in  his  likes  and 
dislikes,  and  would  not  brook  or  easily  forgive 
opposition  on  a  matter  so  near  his  heart  as 
supreme  arbiter  of  fashion  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
race  throughout  the  world. 

It  is  one  of  the  valuable  traditions  of  the 
British  aristocracy,  of  which  they  have  every  reason 
to  be  proud,  that  their  privileged  status  was  not 
built  up,  as  is  the  case  in  some  other  countries, 
upon  the  oppression,  the  degradation,  the  tres- 
passing upon  the  liberty  of  their  fellow  men. 
This  is  one  of  the  causes  of  the  survival  of  the 
great  social  prestige  they  enjoy  in  England  even 
in  our  present  democratic  age ;  whereas  the 
nobles  have  lost  both  caste  and  influence  in  some 
countries,  have  been  extinguished  by  legal  enact- 
ment in  others  (Norway  and  Roumania),  and  have 
never  been  allowed  to  come  into  being  in  the 
United  States  or  in  any  country  of  the  vast  South 
American  continent. 

The  spirit  of  the  great  English  houses  to 
which,  in  the  first  instance,  England  owes  her 
charter  of  liberty  is  far  from  extinct,  as  we  are 
all  witnessing  in  the  present  war.  But  even  in 
this  hat  controversy,  now  twenty  years  old,  there 
could  be  no  mistaking  its  genuine  intensity. 
At  the  price  of  personal  antagonism  to  the 
august    heir    to    the    throne,    the    scion    of    the 

23 


Things  I  Remember 

Sutherland  Gowers  stood  firm  on  this  question 
and  was  prepared  to  take  the  consequences — 
social  boycott  on  the  part  of  Royalty.  Here,  as 
on  many  previous  occasions,  individual  members 
of  celebrated  historical  families  were  to  be  seen 
on  the  popular  side.  For  behind  it  all  there  was 
an  element  of  class  feeling,  the  bowler  standing 
for  democracy.  John  Burns  had  only  recently 
introduced  it  into  the  sacred  precincts  of  St. 
Stephen's — whereas  the  silk  hat  might  well  be 
identified  with  Cavalier  Stuart  traditions.  The 
battle  raged  fiercely  for  a  time,  and  then  died 
away.  Lord  Ronald  Gower  is,  alas !  no  longer 
with  us,  but  his  cause  has  triumphed,  as  anybody 
can  convince  himself  who  strolls  into  the  Park, 
and  sees  King  George  taking  his  morning  ride, 
lifting  his  billycock  hat  in  response  to  his  people's 
greeting. 

Lord  Ronald's  efforts  to  liberate  the  insular 
mind  from  some  of  its  conventional  shackles  were 
not  restricted  to  a  crusade  against  the  tyranny 
of  the  silk  hat.  They  also  embraced  a  protest 
against  that  most  absurd  of  anomalies  —  the 
diminutive  size  of  the  gentleman's  visiting  card  : 
scarcely  exceeding  that  of  a  bill  stamp.  It 
required  a  certain  amount  of  courage  to  take  the 
iconoclastic  step,  but  he  took  it.  Lord  Ronald 
rejected  the  gentleman's  visiting  card,  and  boldly 
adopted  the  more  generous  dimensions  in  use 
by  ladies.  Who  that  has  witnessed  the  pitiful 
attempts  made  to  scribble  anything  legible  on  a 

24 


An  Atmosphere  of  Beauty 

gentleman's  visiting  card  left  at  a  friend's  house, 
but  must  appreciate  the  practical  advantage  of 
this  simple  but  hitherto  tabooed  departure  from 
custom  ? 

Coming  from  surroundings  in  which  conven- 
tionalities had  almost  run  to  seed  in  their  abject 
deference  to  the  make-believes  of  life,  it  was 
stimulating  to  the  mind,  as  a  sea  breeze  to  the 
body,  to  be  brought  into  frequent  and  close  con- 
tact with  one  imbued  with  a  very  different  order 
of  ideas,  feelings  and  impulses.  Here,  for  once 
in  a  while,  was  unfettered  spontaneity  in  one  who 
could  afford  to  let  himself  be  seen  as  he  really 
was.  And  it  was  a  pleasant,  I  might  almost  call 
it  a  beautiful,  experience.  For  everything  that 
surrounded  Lord  Ronald  was  intrinsic,  genuine, 
and  much  of  it  beautiful.  On  the  walls  loomed 
the  portraits  of  the  lovely,  aristocratic  women 
who  were  his  relations — the  Duchesses  of  Leinster, 
Westminster  and  many  others ;  strewn  about  the 
rooms  were  many  tasteful  mementoes,  costly 
family  heirlooms  among  them,  priceless  minia- 
tures, jewelled  tabatieres,  small  bronze  casts  of  his 
own  sculptural  work.  Everything  possessed  a  per- 
sonal interest  and  was  genuine.  The  walls  of  the 
billiard  room  were  covered  with  choice  work  of 
the  old  Italian  masters.  Here,  for  once  in  a 
while,  was  a  man  evidently  brought  up  from  the 
cradle  to  see  and  appreciate  that  which  was 
genuine  and  good.  The  members  of  his  own 
family  and  relatives  are  famous  for  their  aristo- 

^5 


Things  I  Remember 

cratic  charm  of  features.  His  own  mother,  the 
famous  Duchess  of  Sutherland — whose  majestic 
figure  standing  behind  the  Queen  had  impressed 
me  as  a  boy  at  Madame  Tussaud's  waxworks — 
was  reputed  to  be  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
women  of  her  time.  But  not  only  could  Lord 
Ronald  boast  of  Her  Majesty's  intimate  friend- 
ship with  his  mother,  but  the  Queen  had  been 
reported  to  declare  that  Stafford  House  was  more 
of  a  palace  than  her  own  royal  residence.  Down 
to  the  time  I  made  Lord  Ronald's  acquaintance 
the  aged  Queen  would  still  write  to  the  son  of 
her  friend  as  "  My  dear  Ronny."  His  family  is 
related  to  many  of  the  greatest  names  in  the 
peerage.  Here  at  least  was  the  genuine  article  : 
a  born  aristocrat,  with  many  of  the  advantages 
of  rank  and  physical  distinction,  and  in  addition 
a  huge  chunk  of  kindly,  unspoilt  human  nature 
thrown  in,  a  very  unusual  combination  of  For- 
tune's favour.  For  let  there  be  no  mistake, 
although  the  lackey  may  bow  down  to  the  trap- 
pings of  rank  and  the  Socialist  may  deny  the 
attributes  of  birth,  there  are  things  which  cannot 
be  fashioned  in  a  mould  or  struck  off  by  a  die, 
but  to  which  the  Latin  axiom  applies  :  "  Nascitur 
non  fit " ;  and  it  takes  a  number  of  generations 
to  bring  them  forth.  A  people  can  elect  a  king, 
and  a  king  can  make  a  titular  noble,  but  even  he 
cannot  create  those  qualities  of  heart,  mind  and 
body  which  mark  the  real  aristocrat  among  men 
and  women,  though  some  of  them  may  be  found 

26 


What  President  Kruger  Said 

in  a  cottage ;  as  old  Kruger  proudly  implied  when 
he  retorted  to  a  snob  who  had  pointed  out  some- 
one to  him  as  being  the  son  of  a  duke :  "  Tell 
him  my  father  was  a  shepherd."  "I  can  make 
you  a  king,"  said  Napoleon  to  one  of  his  rowdy 
marshals,  "  but  I  cannot  make  you  a  gentleman." 
Nor  is  the  physical  side  of  our  nature  one  to  be 
lost  sight  of  in  this  connection,  as  was  once 
brought  home  to  me  many  years  ago.  A  noble- 
man, in  showing  me  over  his  family  portrait 
gallery,  stopped  short  at  the  picture  of  an  ugly 
old  woman.  "  You  see  that  face,"  he  said. 
"  Well,  one  of  my  ancestors  married  her  for  her 
money,  and  we  have  never  been  able  to  get  her 
ugly  mouth  out  of  the  family.  Even  I  am  still 
cursed  with  the  trace  of  it,  though  it  was  so  long 
ago." 

Being  a  hard  worker  himself,  for  he  was 
incessantly  occupied  either  in  writing  books  or 
with  sculpture — his  Shakespeare  Memorial  is  to 
be  seen  at  Stratford-on-Avon — Lord  Ronald's 
generous  nature  impelled  him  to  take  an  interest 
in  whosoever  had  distinguished  himself  by  doing 
something,  though  here,  perhaps,  his  impulsive 
generosity  occasionally  got  the  better  of  him  and 
would  lead  him  to  overestimate  the  value  of  that 
which  might  be  the  outcome  of  mere  cleverness. 
I  remember  his  telegraphing  to  me  one  day  to 
come  to  his  house  to  meet  a  foreign  gentleman 
whose  main  qualification  was,  as  far  as  I  could 
make  out,   that  he  spoke  fluent  English.    This 

27 


Things  I  Remember 

gave  me  an  opportunity  of  assuring  his  Lord- 
ship that  I  should  always  be  delighted  to  come 
to  see  him  at  his  pleasure,  but  there  was  never 
any  necessity  for  him  to  hold  out  the  meeting  of 
other  people  as  an  extra  inducement.  This, 
however,  was  a  trivial  and  quite  exceptional  case. 
Lord  Ronald's  leanings,  in  the  main,  were  of  a 
far  deeper  and  more  sterling  nature.  He  was 
particularly  attracted  toward  those  who  were 
doing  good  work  for  the  benefit  of  their  fellow- 
men.  Thus  one  of  his  most  intimate  friends — 
one  whom  ever  since  I  have  been  privileged  to 
claim  as  one  of  my  own — was  the  Rev.  Sydney 
Propert,  a  splendid  representative  of  that  honest 
type  of  muscular  Christianity  which  the  Church 
of  England  has  brought  forth  of  late,  bent  upon 
combating  the  worship  of  show  and  sham  appear- 
ances— determined  to  lead  a  life  of  example  as 
well  as  of  precept.  From  his  little  home  in  the 
Lillie  Road,  Fulham,  in  which  district  he  has 
long  exercised  a  powerful  moral  ascendancy  among 
its  denizens,  Mr.  Propert  could  be  seen  of  a 
Saturday  evening,  arrayed  in  his  vestments,  hold- 
ing service  from  an  improvised  pulpit  in  the 
street,  with  a  large  crowd  of  attentive  and 
reverent  listeners.  In  this  strong  clergyman's 
friendship  Lord  Ronald  was  destined  to  find 
solace  for  some  bitter  disappointments  he  met 
with  in  other  directions. 

In  his  own  household  Lord  Ronald  endeavoured 
to  lessen  the  chilling  gene  of  distance  between 

28 


Lord  Ronald  and  His  Valet 

master  and  servant  which  characterises  our  social 
conditions  as  with  a  heart-steriHsing  bhght,  and 
which  finds  no  precedent  among  the  original 
prescriptions  of  Christianity.  Even  down  to  the 
present  day  it  is  not  to  be  met  with  in  the  East, 
either  in  Turkey  or,  strange  to  say,  in  that  other 
home  of  autocracy,  Russia.  Lord  Ronald  treated 
his  servants  with  affability;  he  took  a  personal 
interest  in  their  concerns  such  as  would  have  been 
considered  misplaced  and  unseemly  by  Gorgias 
Midas.  His  valet  had  a  turn  for  painting,  which 
His  Lordship  encouraged,  and  even  had  special 
hours  set  apart  for  his  studies.  One  of  this  man's 
oils  was  hung  in  his  master's  dining-room. 

In  one  thus  singularly  endowed  with  kind- 
liness and  goodwill  to  all  around  him,  imbued 
with  the  desire  to  further  whatever  might  be 
commendable  in  his  eyes,  I  had  no  reason  to  be 
surprised  that  in  his  dealings  with  everybody  else 
his  one  wish  seemed  to  be  of  service,  to  do  a 
kind  act.  Thus,  when  he  heard  that  I  was  going 
abroad,  he  volunteered  to  give  me  introductions 
broadcast.  He  gave  me  one  to  the  Duke  of 
Westminster,  who,  having  heard  that  the  Herald 
was  defending  the  Turks,  refused  to  see  me. 
"Oh,  he  is  a  crank!  "  said  Lord  Ronald.  The 
blasphemous  notion  that  an  English  duke,  one 
who  was  in  a  position  to  sign  cheques  from  morn- 
ing till  night  without  depleting  his  balance  at 
the  bank,  might  also  be  a  crank,  was  one  I  had 
never  heard  before,  and  possessed  the  piquancy  of 

29 


Things  I  Remember 

novelty.  In  fact,  there  seemed  to  be  no  limit  to 
the  kindly  feeling  of  Lord  Ronald.  He  asked  me 
to  come  to  breakfast  with  him  at  nine  o'clock  one 
morning — oh,  unconventional,  unearthly  hour  ! — 
to  meet  his  great  friend  the  Marquis  of  Lome. 
Nor  should  I  omit  another  trifling  incident, 
because  it  recalls  the  inner  nature  of  the  man. 
He  took  me  one  morning  to  Stafford  House  and 
showed  me  the  room  which  had  once  been  his 
nursery  as  a  child.  Finally,  he  made  me  ihe 
spontaneous  offer  to  take  me  to  a  Levee.  I  had 
heard  that  strangers  had  been  known  to  come  to 
London,  to  take  expensive  houses  in  the  most 
fashionable  parts,  and  spend  money  lavishly  in 
entertaining  their  friends,  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  achieving  that  which  Lord  Ronald  offered 
me,  a  mere  newspaper  man,  for  nothing — to  be 
received  by  the  Prince  of  Wales!  When  I 
recovered  from  my  surprise  it  occurred  to  me 
that,  as  in  the  case  of  Lord  Beaconsfield  and  his 
peerage,  I  might,  perhaps,  have  enjoyed  the 
honour  before  if  I  had  run  after  it;  but  now 
that  it  was  offered  by  the  son  of  a  duke,  the 
uncle,  brother-in-law  and  cousin  of  half  a  dozen 
other  dukes,  to  have  declined  might  have  savoured 
of  that  mock  modesty  which  is  one  of  the  most 
insidious  forms  of  conceit.  Thus  I  accepted. 
Fortunately,  a  little  circumstance,  conveying  a 
useful  lesson  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  made  the 
occasion  one  to  be  gratefully  remembered  into 
the   bargain.     On   entering   the   Throne   Room, 

30 


•  t 

•  •  •  ••  •     •  • 


^^  A^  «i/^^^^t  ti;^  iit/t  A. 


Jy-vv**^ 


/5"  ^  ^Z**^'^*^/^?}- 


HIS   EXCELLENCY   RUNG 

Chinese  Ambassador  in  London 


Received  by  the  Prince 

and  being  ushered  into  "  the  presence  " — where 
sat  the  Prince  of  Wales,  with  Lord  Wolseley 
standing  close  by  his  side  in  full  Field-Marshal's 
rig — what  was  my  amazement  to  behold  His 
Royal  Highness  step  down  from  the  throne  and 
shake  hands  effusively  with  Lord  Ronald  Gower, 
whilst  only  a  distant  condescending  bow  was 
vouchsafed  to  all  the  others  passing  through, 
among  whom  were  judges  learned  in  law,  men 
who  had  served  their  country  in  every  sphere  of 
life.  Here  was  a  lesson  indeed!  The  man  who 
had  dared  to  oppose,  if  not  to  affront,  the  Royal 
and  Imperial  Arbiter  of  Clothes  of  the  entire 
Anglo-Saxon  race  was  forgiven  and  treated  with 
cordiality  as  a  friend,  whilst  faithful  lieges  who 
had  never  done  anything  to  offend  were  curtly 
dismissed.  Well  may  the  proverb  say  that  "it 
is  not  well  to  eat  cherries  with  the  great  of  the 
earth,"  and  to  mix  up  in  their  quarrels  is  a  pastime 
which  is  only  too  likely  to  revenge  itself  upon  our 
poor  deluded  heads.  An  even  greater  surprise  was 
vouchsafed  to  me  in  this  connection,  for  some  days 
afterwards  when  the  list  of  those  present  at  the 
Levee  was  printed  in  the  Morning  Post,  I  found 
that  the  fact  that  my  name  had  appeared  among 
them  had  conferred  a  greater  distinction  upon  me 
in  the  eyes  of  my  connections  and  friends,  among 
whom  were  a  sprinkling  of  parsons,  than  twenty 
years  of  not  unsuccessful  literary  activity. 

Alas!    how   futile   may  be   the  efforts  of  an 
individual,  however  well  intentioned,  to  steer  clear 

31 


Thingsp  Remember 

of  the  many  deceptions  and  disappointments  which 
await  the  unwary  in  their  indiscriminate  efforts  to 
follow  the  bent  of  a  generous  nature.  Some  time 
after  the  incident  above  referred  to,  Lord  Ronald 
left  London  and  went  to  live  at  Penshurst,  near 
Tunbridge  Wells,  where  he  had  taken  the  pictur- 
esque country  house,  with  its  beautiful  grounds 
adjoining,  which  had  once  belonged  to  Nasmyth, 
the  famous  engineer.  When  I  visited  him  there 
I  happened  to  mention  that  I  had  seen  his  valet 
walking  along  the  streets  in  Kensington,  and  I 
asked  whether  the  man  had  left  his  service. 
''Yes,"  he  replied,  "when  I  was  about  to  take 
this  place  I  was  faced  with  the  alternative  whether 
I  should  do  so  or  keep  him  on  as  my  valet.  I 
couldn't  afford  the  two  luxuries,  and  so  I  dis- 
charged him." 

It  is  sad  to  think  that  a  life  started  under  such 
golden  auspices  should  have  been  clouded  at  its 
close.  Lord  Ronald  was  not  endowed  with  that 
discernment  which  those  must  possess  who  are 
launched  into  the  world  to  fight  their  way  without 
favour.  It  was  never  his  lot  to  pass  through  the 
apprenticeship  of  business  and  arm  himself  against 
its  pitfalls.  His  artistic  nature  did  not  include  the 
endowment  of  that  stern  perspicacity  of  reading 
character  which  is  always  an  important  item  of 
aristocratic  strength.  This  was  denied  him,  and 
the  lack  of  it  embittered  the  last  years  of  one  who 
had  ever  acted  up  to  the  motto  of  his  caste : 
"Noblesse  oblige." 

32 


CHAPTER   IV 

VIENNA 

The  year  1897  marked  the  apogee  of  my 
journalistic  experiences — at  least  in  the  matter 
of  locomotion.  It  saw  me  in  succession  in 
Munich,  Vienna,  Salonica,  Elassona,  Constanti- 
nople, Bucharest,  Budapest,  Munich,  London  (the 
Queen's  Jubilee),  Marienbad,  Venice,  London, 
Paris,  Vienna,  Constantinople,  and  Armenia.  A 
record  of  mileage  which  should  fairly  entitle  a 
man  to  take  rank  as  a  peripatetic  reveller  with 
that  spoilt  child  of  journalism,  the  Imperial  War 
Lord ! 

Early  in  January  I  received  Mr.  Bennett's 
instructions  to  run  over  to  Munich,  and  await 
further  orders  there.  Shortly  after  my  arrival 
came  a  telegram  from  him  asking  me  whether  I 
thought  that  I  might  succeed  in  interviewing 
Count  Goluchowski  on  the  European  situation  if 
I  went  to  Vienna  for  the  purpose.  I  replied  that  I 
did  not  think  it  at  all  likely  the  Austro-Hungarian 
Foreign  Minister  would  consent  to  be  interviewed 
on  such  a  topic.  Thereupon  another  telegram 
arrived  to  the  effect  that  if  I  tried  my  best,  Mr. 
Bennett  felt  convinced  I  would  succeed;  and  he 

D  33 


Things  I  Remember 

instructed  me  to  proceed  to  Vienna  forthwith. 
This  second  telegram  was  brought  to  me  whilst  I 
was  at  dinner  in  the  house  of  my  friend  Lenbach, 
the  painter.  "  What  does  Bennett  want  of  you?" 
he  asked  in  his  blunt  way,  seeing  that  I  was  pre- 
occupied; and  I  told  him.  Lenbach  made  light 
of  the  matter  and  said  he  would  give  me  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  Count  Johann  Wilczek,  an 
Austrian  grand  seignem*  who  had  been  a  Polar 
explorer  in  his  young  days,  and  was  one  of  the 
most  popular  men  in  Vienna. 

On  my  arrival  in  Vienna  I  delivered  my  letter. 
"  If  that  is  all  you  require,"  said  the  Count, 
"  you  can  look  upon  it  as  settled,  and  I  am  very 
pleased  to  be  of  service  to  you." 

"  I  am  afraid  Your  Excellency  is  too  sanguine 
as  to  the  feasibility  of  the  case,"  I  rejoined.  "  I 
have  met  a  number  of  distinguished  men  in  my 
time,  and  have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  Count 
Goluchowski  would  receive  me  as  a  private  indi- 
vidual, if  properly  introduced;  but  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  a  newspaper — that,  I  am  afraid,  is  a 
very  different  matter." 

And  so,  indeed,  it  turned  out.  After  several 
days  had  elapsed,  I  received  a  short  note  from 
Count  Wilczek  expressing  his  regret  that  his 
efforts  on  my  behalf  had  been  fruitless.  I  was 
thus  left  with  nothing  whatever  to  do,  and  given 
from  morning  to  night  to  do  it  in.  My  instruc- 
tions were  to  remain  in  Vienna  for  the  present, 
doing    nothing.      It    could    scarcely    be    called 

34 


Ludwig  von  Doczi 

'^  something  to  do"  to  call  daily  at  the  Foreign 
Office  in  the  Ball  Platz,  and  ask  for  news  from  the 
lips  of  its  presiding  spirit,  Sektionschef,  Hof  and 
Ministerialrath  Ludwig  von  Doczi.  Though  a 
little  man,  he  was  a  remarkable  personage  in 
his  way,  quite  a  Vienna  celebrity,  and  strongly 
typical  of  Austrian  bureaucratic  life  in  those  days. 
Originally  a  Hungarian  journalist  of  Jewish 
parentage,  Doczi  had  worked  his  way  up  by  sheer 
ability  to  a  prominent  position  until  he  became 
the  official  intermediary  and  speaking-tube  of 
Count  Goluchowski  and  was  ennobled.  He  was, 
besides,  the  author  of  a  number  of  plays,  and  had 
translated  Goethe's  "  Faust"  into  the  Hungarian 
language.  Doczi 's  name  was  one  to  conjure  with 
in  Vienna,  for  when  a  question  involving  matters 
of  literature  and  aesthetic  taste  rose,  it  would 
provoke  the  query:  ''What  does  Doczi  think  of 
it?  Have  you  seen  Doczi?"  Alas,  with  him  as 
with  many  Austrian  celebrities,  his  reputation 
does  not  extend  beyond  the  borders  of  the  Dual 
Monarchy. 

Vienna  has  always  enjoyed  the  reputation  of 
being  one  of  the  most  charming  cities  of  the  world. 
It  undoubtedly  is  delightfully  situated,  and  for 
the  pleasure-seeker  an  ideal  resort.  But  it  is 
scarcely  a  congenial  abode  for  any  length  of  time 
for  one  with  whom  strenuous  work  has  become 
the  habit  of  a  lifetime.  And,  surely  enough,  this 
was  the  only  period  in  my  life  when  I  suffered 
from  insomnia.     It  was  produced  by  idleness!     I 

35 


Things  I  Remember 

used  to  get  up  at  five  in  the  morning,  and  sally 
forth  to  one  of  the  cafes  opposite  the  Opera, 
where  wastrels  returned  from  the  carnival  carouses 
and  other  early  birds  would  take  their  breakfast 
reading  their  intellectual  bible,  the  Neue  Freie 
Ft  esse.  Looking  back,  I  cannot  but  think  that 
it  must  have  been  a  sentiment  of  pity  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Bennett  which  induced  him  to  send  a 
delightful  young  Englishman  to  Vienna  to  keep  me 
company  in  my  "do  nothingness."  He  arrived 
one  fine  morning,  with  an  elaborate  wardrobe, 
an  "  Almanach  de  Gotha,"  a  peerage,  a  counts' 
and  a  baronial  directory.  He  said  he  had  been 
told  that  unless  he  knew  these  standard  works  of 
reference  by  heart,  it  was  hopeless  for  him  to 
attempt  to  make  his  way  in  Viennese  society. 
He  also  brought  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the 
British  Ambassador,  the  late  Sir  Horace  Rumbold. 
The  letter  was  from  Count  Festetics  to  "  My 
dear  Horace,"  warmly  recommending  this  young 
recruit  to  journalism.  Alas!  the  letter  was  in 
vain;  "  My  dear  Horace  "  declined  to  befriend  a 
man  who  was  only  assistant  correspondent  of  an 
American  paper. 

My  young  friend  aided  me  manfully  in  the 
practice  of  the  art  of  killing  time.  He  would 
get  up  about  midday,  and  in  the  course  of  his 
apprenticeship  endeavoured  to  "  qualify  "  himself 
by  obtaining  familiarity  with  Austrian  affairs. 
This  he  would  do  by  submitting  his  head  to  the 
operations  of  the  hotel  hairdresser,  and  discussing 

36 


Princess  Pauline  Metternich 

current  events  with  him,  a  function  he  took  very; 
seriously.  He  then  adjourned  for  breakfast  to  a 
cafe,  and  reid  the  last  numbers  of  the  Temps  and 
the  Figaro.  In  the  afternoon  I  instructed  him 
to  call  at  the  Foreign  Office,  as  I  had  become 
very  tired  of  trying  to  make  bricks  without 
straw. 

It  added  to  my  mental  depression  that  at  that 
particular  time  I  possessed  sundry  august — what  a 
certain  Archbishop  might  have  termed  ''  sacred  " 
— memories  of  Vienna  and  exalted  Viennese  of 
other  days.  They  rose  unbidden,  and  as  mementoes 
of  conditions  never  likely  to  return  may  be  briefly 
referred  to  here.  As  a  young  man  I  had  known 
Count  Beust,  the  Chancellor  of  the  Austrian 
Empire,  and  had  been  his  guest.  I  had  been 
admitted  into  the  exclusive  family  circle  of  this 
proudest  nobility  in  the  world.  On  one  occasion 
I  had  been  invited  en  tout  petit  comite  de  famille 
to  meet  that  imperious  idol  of  the  Viennese,  the 
famous  Princess  Pauline  Metternich,  and  asked 
to  accompany  her  on  the  piano  when  she  sang 
one  of  those  naughty  little  Parisian  cabaret  songs 
of  Mdlle.  Schneider  (or  Therese)  with  which  she 
used  to  charm  the  Imperial  Court  at  St.  Cloud 
and  Compiegne.  Her  voice  was  scarcely  audible, 
but  the  experience  was  a  memorable  one. 

Among  my  distinguished  Vienna  friends  of 
other  days  was  Count  Nicolas  Esterhazy,  the 
famous  sportsman  and  patron  of  the  drama,  not 
to   forget  the  eternal   and  enthralling  feminine 

37 


Things  I  Remember, 

element.  As  a  worthy  example  of  the  good- 
natured,  easy-going,  open-handed  Hungarian  aris- 
tocrat, he  was  a  most  popular  figure  throughout 
the  Austro-Hungarian  Monarchy,  and  represented 
social  conditions  which  are  unlikely  to  survive 
after  the  present  war.  In  his  younger  days  he 
had  been  in  the  diplomatic  service  in  London, 
where  his  racing  colours,  for  all  I  know  to  the 
contrary,  may  still  be  held  among  the  "  sacred 
memories  "  of  the  sporting  world.  When  I  knew 
him  he  Hved  in  one  of  the  palaces  on  the  Schwar- 
zenberg  Platz,  but  his  real  home  was  at  his  chateau 
in  the  little  village  of  Todis  in  Hungary.  There 
in  the  courtyard  his  own  uniformed  bodyguard 
stood  at  the  salute  on  the  arrival  of  a  guest.  For 
the  princely  family  of  Esterhazy — of  which  my 
friend  was  the  senior  representative  of  a  side- 
branch — is  one  of  the  few,  if  not  the  only  one, 
still  entitled  to  maintain  this  ornamental  append- 
age of  former  sovereign  rank. 

The  Count  had  built  himself  a  beautiful  theatre 
— an  exact  miniature  duplicate  of  the  one  in  Karls- 
bad— ^where  he  kept  a  full  company  of  actors  and 
singers,  as  well  as  an  operatic  orchestra,  in  his  pay 
for  the  exclusive  benefit  of  himself  and  his  friends. 
On  my  arrival  a  rehearsal  was  in  progress  of  an 
opera  based  upon  Tennyson's  "  Enoch  Arden." 
It  was  composed  by  his  own  chef  d^orchestre,  and 
was  intended  to  compete  for  a  prize  which  the 
then  reigning  Duke  Ernest  of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha 
had  instituted.     After   the   performance   we  ad- 

38 


What  the  Valet  Found 

journed  to  a  picturesque  supper-room  within  the 
building.  It  was  fitted  up  in  the  plain  rustic 
style  of  a  village-inn  parlour,  and  the  guests 
ordered  whatever  they  liked,  as  they  might  have 
done  in  an  inn.  They  were  waited  upon  by  the 
illustrious  host's  black-liveried  servants,  who  were 
assisted  by  some  pretty  Hungarian  girls  dressed 
in  the  bright-coloured  national  costume.  On  the 
wall  hung  an  inscription,  an  adaptation  of  the 
famous  verse  in  Mozart's  "  Magic  Flute  "  :  ''In 
diesen  heiligen  Hallen — Kennt  man  die  Rache 
nicht,"  which  rendered  in  English  reads  as 
follows  :  ''  In  these  sacred  halls  there  is  no  bill  to 
pay.  All  that  the  genial  host  asks  is  to  look  on 
happy  faces."  After  supper  the  company  ad- 
journed to  a  spacious  ball-room,  in  which  dancing 
was  kept  up  far  into  the  night,  with  the  flowing 
champagne  bowl  as  a  stimulant  and  the  pretty 
peasant  maidens  as  the  most  attractive  feature.  I 
did  not  wait  for  the  break-up,  but  retired  to  my 
room,  and  still  remember  the  contemptuous  ex- 
pression on  the  face  of  the  English  valet  when,  on 
opening  my  travelling-bag  for  me,  he  discovered 
little  more  than  a  nightshirt  and  a  toothbrush ! 

Count  Esterhazy  was  one  of  those  Hungarian 
aristocrats  who,  by  their  rank,  were  down  on  the 
list  submitted  to  the  Emperor  on  given  occasions 
to  be  invited  to  dinner.  The  story  was  current 
that  when  his  name  was  mentioned  to  His  Majesty 
the  Emperor  would  reply,  in  the  homely  Austrian 
dialect  affected  by  the  Imperial  Family :  ''  Lasst 

39 


Things  I  Remember 

mir  den  Niki  aus,  er  will  ja  doch  nicht  kommen  " 
("  Leave  Niki's  name  out,  I  know  he  doesn't 
care  to  come ").  When  this  gracious  grand 
seigneur  went  to  a  Vienna  theatre  the  manager 
would  come  to  his  box  to  pay  his  respects  to  him 
and  express  his  felicity  over  the  visit  of  so  distin- 
guished a  guest,  whose  English  valet,  in  evening 
dress,  would  be  seated  in  the  front  row  of  the 
stalls.  Alas !  no  mention  is  made  of  this  kindly, 
generous  scion  of  the  great  historical  Hungarian 
house  in  any  books  of  reference  I  have  consulted. 
He  lived  only  for  his  day,  and  has  since  gone  to  his 
rest,  let  me  hope  to  be  at  least  gratefully  remem- 
bered in  the  heart  of  those  who  were  privileged  to 
enjoy  his  delightful  hospitality. 

A  far  greater  chance  of  immortality  must  be 
vouchsafed  to  another  of  my  old  Vienna  acquaint- 
ances, the  great  waltz-king,  Johann  Strauss.  He 
surprised  me  one  day  with  a  valuable  memento 
in  the  shape  of  his  own  photograph,  upon  which 
he  had  inscribed  the  opening  bars  of  that  most 
enthralling  of  all  waltzes,  "The  Blue  Danube." 
Would  that  Austria  had  remained  true  to  its 
joyous  spirit;  then,  perhaps,  there  might  have 
been  no  war. 

In  September  of  the  year  1891  I  had  taken 
part  in  the  International  Statistical  Congress  in 
Vienna,  as  honorary  secretary  of  its  president, 
the  late  Sir  Rawson  W.  Rawson,  C.B.,  and  thus 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Austrian  high  official 
life    from    its    most    attractive    side,    that    of    a 

40 


Festive  Scientists 

sympathetic   and   lavish   hospitality.      Invitations 
rained  upon  us  on  every  hand.     Ministers  gave 
receptions  in  honour  of  the  Congress ;  its  members 
were  invited  by  the  Mayor  of  Vienna  to  lunch  at 
the  town  hall,  where  a  Lucullian  repast  was  set 
before  us  to  the  strains  of  Mascagni's  ''  Cavalleria 
Rusticana  "  played  by  a  military  band.    A  special 
private   performance   of   the    "  Puppenfee "   was 
given  at  the  Imperial  Opera,  where  the  incom- 
parable attractions  of  the  renowned  Vienna  ballet 
corps  were   displayed  for  our  exclusive   benefit. 
The  climax,  however,  was  reached  by  an  invita- 
tion from  the  Emperor  Francis  Joseph  himself 
to   attend  a   reception   at  the   Imperial   Palace. 
Unfortunately,  at  the  last  moment  His  Majesty 
was  prevented  by  a  railway  accident  from  wel- 
coming us  in  person.     But  his  brother,  the  late 
Archduke  Charles  Louis,  took  his  place,  and  he 
conversed  with  each  of  us  in  turn.     Afterwards 
we  were  taken  in  to  supper,  and  invited  to  par- 
take of  the  very  same  bouillon  which,  as  we  were 
told,  had  been  served  up  in  these  Imperial  halls 
uninterruptedly    ever    since    the    time    of    the 
Emperor  Charles  V.    The  only  drawback  was  that 
we  were  obliged  to  inhale  the  stuffy  atmosphere 
of  rooms  which  were  probably  as  badly  ventilated 
in   those    long    past   days.     Indeed,    everywhere 
this  cosmopolitan  gathering  of  scientific  men  was 
honoured  and  treated  with  distinction ;  everywhere 
except   at  the   British   Embassy,    by   which   the 
congress   was   politely   ignored.     We   were   told 

41 


Things  I  Remember 

that  the  British  Government  provided  no  funds 
for  entertainments  of  that  kind. 

But  those  were  days  of  independence,  when 
a  man,  even  though  he  might  only  possess  a 
slender  wardrobe  and  a  scanty  cash  balance, 
stood  square  to  every  wind.  If  possessed  of  the 
genius  of  a  Galileo,  there  was  nobody  to  say 
nay  to  his  imperative  declaration :  "  Eppur  si 
muove."  Personally  independent,  naturally  free 
to  develop  the  most  priceless  possession  of  man, 
even  an  autocratic  ruler  might  shout  himself 
hoarse  in  vain  at  his  heels !  But  now,  on  this 
last  visit,  I  was  in  the  derogatory  position  of  one 
' '  wanting  to  know  ' '  and  publish  what ' '  another  ' ' 
thought  or  willed,  and  had  thus  become  a  mere 
reverberating  disc,  a  speaking-trumpet  of  other 
men's  thoughts,  intentions  and  ideas.  And 
nobody  of  intellectual  distinction  cared  to  go 
out  of  his  way  to  oblige  him  who  could  no 
longer  put  forward  his  own  unfettered  personality 
in  exchange. 

Fortunately,  I  had  one  stanch  friend  left  in 
Vienna,  and  it  was  to  his  loyalty,  as  a  journalist, 
towards  a  colleague,  that  I  owed  relief  from  my 
troubles.  One  day  I  happened  to  mention  Count 
Goluchowski's  refusal  to  see  me  to  the  late 
Doctor  Theodor  Herzl.  He  had  been  Paris  corre- 
spondent of  the  Neue  Freie  Presse,  and  was  now 
the  editor  of  the  literary  feuilleton  of  the  Neue 
Freie  Presse,  and,  as  such,  a  very  influential 
person;  but  his  name  has  since  become  known 

42 


Dr.  Theodor  Herzl 

the  world  over  as  the  founder  and  leader  of  the 
Jewish  Zionist  Movement.  He  was  a  brilliant 
man  of  letters,  whose  plays  enjoyed  the  distinc- 
tion— ^no  small  one — of  being  performed  on  the 
stage  of  the  Imperial  Hofburg  Theatre.  When 
I  told  him  of  my  dilemma,  he  made  light  of  it 
and  merely  said  :  "  Whitman,  I'll  manage  that 
for  you." 

It  was  carnival  time,  and  the  annual  ball  of 
the  journalists  of  Vienna  was  about  to  take  place. 
Several  representatives  of  the  Neue  Freie  Presse 
were  on  the  committee,  though  not  Dr.  Herzl,  for 
he  took  no  interest  in  such  festivities.  Shortly 
before  the  evening  of  the  ball  the  following 
characteristic  conversation  took  place  between  him 
and  a  member  of  the  committee  : 

"  Strobach,  of  course  you  are  going  to  the 
Press  ball.?" 

"Yes." 

*'  Goluchowski  is  to  be  present?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  want  you  to  present  my  friend  Whitman 
to  him." 

"What?  That  man!  Why,  he  is  an  Anti- 
Semite." 

"  Strobach,  when  I  tell  you  he  is  my  friend 
that  must  be  sufficient  for  you." 

Said  and  done!  When,  on  the  evening  of 
the  ball,  I  arrived  at  the  "Concordia"  (a  noted 
public  ballroom),  Herr  Strobach,  beaming  with 
amiability,  received  me  in  the  committee  room 

43 


Things  I  Remember 

and  told  me  to  keep  close  to  him.  On  the  arrival 
of  Count  Goluchowski,  surrounded  by  a  staff  of 
diplomatists,  the  band  struck  up,  and  everybody 
crowded  round  to  pay  homage  to  the  all-powerful 
Minister.  He  was  led  to  a  raised  platform, 
where  he  stood  in  the  centre  of  a  star-  and  cross- 
bespangled  crowd,  among  which  were  the  leading 
journalists  of  Vienna,  nearly  everyone  of  whom 
wore  several  decorations.  Herr  Strobach  took 
me  by  the  hand,  led  me  boldly  through  the 
throng,  and  presented  me  to  His  Excellency. 

If  I  have  dwelt  at  length  on  so  trivial  an 
incident,  it  is  because  I  wish  to  indicate  the 
position  that  journalists  hold  in  Vienna,  and  to 
give  an  instance  of  the  loyalty  to  their  friends  to 
be  met  with  among  the  Jews,  to  which  no  small 
portion  of  their  power  and  success  in  life  is  due. 
Far  from  being  Anti-Semitically  inclined  myself, 
some  of  the  most  cultured  and  refined  men  I  have 
ever  met  were  Jews,  among  whom  I  have  had  firm 
friends.  It  was  characteristic  of  Dr.  Herzl's  sanity 
of  outlook  that,  whereas  his  whole  heart  was  devoted 
to  the  championship  of  Judaism,  he  was  yet  able 
to  contemplate  the  phenomenon  of  Anti-Semitism 
with  the  dispassionate  eyes  of  an  onlooker.  His 
long  residence  in  Paris  had  made  him  intimately 
acquainted  with  the  undercurrents  and  passions 
which  found  an  explosive  manifestation  in  the 
writings  of  M.  Drumont,  and  culminated  in  the 
abominable  Dreyfus  case.  He  told  me  that  there 
could   be   no   question   as   to    the   innocence   of 

44 


The  Zionist  Movement 

Dreyfus,  but  it  would  be  nevertheless  unwise  to 
lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  certain  aggressive  Jewish 
elements  were  partly  responsible  for  the  Jews 
having  incurred  hatred  among  a  people  which  in 
times  gone  by  had  been  most  Hberal  in  its  treat- 
ment of  his  race. 

As  regards  England,  a  country  for  which  Herzl 
harboured  the  warmest  admiration,  he  warned  me 
that  it  would  largely  depend  upon  the  Jews  them- 
selves whether  or  not  a  wave  of  Anti-Semitism 
should  spring  up  there.  He  told  me,  further,  that 
it  was  not  to  the  interest  of  the  Jewish  community 
that  individual  ambitious  Jews  should  make  them- 
selves unduly  prominent  as  candidates  for  social 
and  political  honours.  The  Jews  should  remember 
that,  as  members  of  an  alien  race — a  fact  which 
they  themselves  were  ever  ready  to  proclaim  and 
emphasise — such  men  would  always  be  conspicuous 
objects  for  the  envy  and  jealousy  of  those  whom 
they  overshadowed  by  their  wealth  or  other  source 
of  power.  Such  aggressiveness  was.  Dr.  Herzl 
maintained,  directly  injurious  to  the  legitimate 
aims  and  aspirations  of  the  Jews  as  a  people. 
They  should  foster  and  hold  on  to  their  loftiest 
ideals  of  thought  and  conduct,  and  thus  contribute 
to  the  progress  of  the  world  by  giving  of  their  best 
in  its  service. 

Dr.  Herzl's  death,  at  an  early  age,  was 
due  to  heart  disease — the  journalist's  complaint — 
probably  brought  on  by  overwork  in  connection 
with  the  project  of  his  life,  the  Zionist  Move- 

45 


Things  I  Remember 

ment.  As  a  dispassionate  reporter  of  events,  the 
journalist  has  no  time,  and,  indeed,  no  business, 
to  identify  himself  with  any  of  the  many  '*  isms  " 
he  comes  across  in  the  practice  of  his  profession. 
By  so  doing  he  would  diminish  his  usefulness  and 
detract  from  his  reliability,  becoming  a  partisan 
where  he  should  only  be  a  faithful  recorder.  Thus 
I  took  little  interest  in  Dr.  HerzPs  pet  scheme 
for  the  repatriation  of  the  Jews  in  Palestine,  to 
which  he  had  given  the  name  of  Zionism.  But 
the  Movement  has  since  become  one  of  so  wide- 
spread an  interest  that  a  few  words  as  to  its 
nature  or  its  aims,  its  essential  features  as  given 
to  me  in  our  many  conversations,  cannot  be  out 
of  place.  Dr.  Herzl,  like  most  other  men  of 
strong  character,  was  attached  to  the  race  from 
which  he  sprang.  He  sympathised  with  its 
wrongs,  and,  with  the  ardour  of  an  enthusiastic 
nature,  longed  to  see  them  righted.  Further,  he 
held  that  a  people  can  only  maintain  itself  by  its 
adherence  to  those  life-giving  principles  which 
we  may  call  its  soul.  This  means  its  fidelity  to 
those  instincts  which  set  the  ideals  of  conduct  of 
the  community  above  the  egotistical  aims  of  the 
unit.  Therefore  the  wealthy  Jews  of  inter- 
national finance  who  had  become  cosmopolitan 
were  a  negligible,  even  despicable,  quantity  in 
Dr.  Herzl's  eyes.  Among  the  leading  London 
Jews  Sir  Francis  Montefiore  was  about  the  only 
one  of  his  enthusiastic  supporters.  Without 
troubling  himself  about  dogma,  Herzl  revered  the 

46 


A  Jewish  Standard 

Rabbi  and  looked  askance  at  the  millionaire  whose 
loyalty  to  Judaism  he  suspected. 

Zionism,  of  course,  does  not  aim  at  uproot- 
ing all  Jews  throughout  the  world  and  planting 
them  afresh  and  wholesale  in  Palestine.  Its 
ambition  is  not  to  found  an  independent  Jewish 
state,  but  to  provide  a  secure  home  for  such  Jews 
as  suffer  persecution  and  yearn  towards  Jerusalem, 
and  to  make  of  the  Palestine  thus  colonised  a 
spiritual  centre  for  the  rest  of  Judaism.  Zionism 
was  to  be  a  rallying-point  of  Jewish  ideaUsm 
even  where  the  belief  as  to  the  practicabiUty  of 
a  return  to  Palestine  was  non-existent.  And 
the  results,  as  shown  by  statistics  since  Dr. 
Herzl's  death,  are  of  an  encouraging  nature  in 
this  respect.^ 

The  fundamental  idea  was  that  the  Jew 
should  learn  to  respect  himself  as  a  Jew,  stand  up 
for  himself  as  a  Jew,  hold  to  his  standards  as  a 
Jew,  and  thus  force  others  to  respect  him  as 
a  Jew.  With  this  purpose  in  view  Dr.  Herzl 
gathered  round  him  the  elite  of  the  Jewish 
academical  youth  of  Vienna,  and  they  formed 
into  a  corps  under  the  name  of  Kadimah.  It 
contained   some  of  the   most  expert  fencers   at 

*  "  The  number  of  Jewish  colonies  and  smaller  seUlements  is  now 
(1916)  nearly  fifty,  of  which  twenty  are  in  Judaea,  in  the  south  of 
Palestine ;  seven  in  Samaria,  in  the  centre ;  and  sixteen  in  Galilee,  to 
the  north.  The  other  three  are  on  the  other  side  of  the  Jordan.  The 
rural  Jewish  population  was  in  1914  about  15,000  out  of  a  total  of 
100,000  Jews  in  the  country.  .  .  .  The  Jewish  colonies  now  produce 
one-third  of  the  total  orange  output  of  Palestine." 

47 


Things  I  Remember 

the  University,  who  came  to  be  the  recognised 
champions  of  flouted  Judaism. 

Dr.  Herzl  devoted  all  his  energies  to  Zionism, 
jeopardising  thereby  his  worldly  prospects,  for 
his  aims  encountered  strong  opposition  even  from 
his  own  friends  and  co-religionists.  Although, 
as  the  editor  of  the  feuilleton  of  the  Neue  Freie 
Press,  Herzl  may  be  said  to  have  occupied  the 
premier  position  in  the  Habsburg  Monarchy  as 
regards  literary  influence,  the  very  word  ''Zion- 
ism ' '  was  not  allowed  to  be  mentioned  in  its 
columns.  It  only  appeared  after  his  death,  in 
a  warm-hearted  tribute  to  his  memory.  Such, 
however,  was  the  moral  ascendancy  of  the  man 
that  his  paper  offered  no  obstacle  to  his  prolonged 
absences  while  undertaking  long  journeys  in  the 
interests  of  Zionism.  Herzl  went  to  Turkey  to 
plead  the  case  of  the  Jews,  and  was  received  by 
the  Sultan.  He  was  also  repeatedly  in  Paris  and 
London.  I  was  present  at  a  crowded  meeting 
of  several  thousand  Jews  in  the  East  End  of 
London  when  he  was  enthusiastically  acclaimed 
as  a  prophet  of  his  race.  He  looked  the  part  to 
the  life,  for  he  was  one  of  the  most  strikingly 
handsome  men  I  have  ever  met;  his  dark,  some- 
what melancholy  features  wore  an  expression  of 
sad  other- worldliness,  bearing  a  strong  resem- 
blance to  those  of  Christ  as  pictured  by  the  great 
Italian  masters.  It  was  a  touching  moment 
when,  at  the  end  of  the  meeting,  the  audience 
in  their  thousands  streamed  out  into  the  Wtiite- 

48 


•  •     • 


■^^ 


Jean  de  Bloch 

chapel  Road ;  many  followed  Herzl,  endeavouring 
to  kiss  his  hands  and  even  the  hem  of  his  garment. 

In  the  course  of  Dr.  Herzl's  stay  in  London 
he  introduced  me  to  his  distinguished  co- 
religionist, the  Warsaw^  banker,  Jean  de  Bloch, 
the  author  of  that  remarkable  book  on  the 
futihty  of  modem  war,  who  happened  to  be 
staying  with  his  family  at  the  Hotel  Cecil. 
Herzl  had  written  a  play  dealing  with  Zionism, 
and  was  most  anxious  to  get  it  performed  on  the 
London  stage.  He  told  me  that  he  intended  to 
entrust  the  matter  to  a  certain  Austrian  journaUst 
living  in  London.  When  I  suggested  to  him 
that  he  would  do  better  to  place  it  with  an 
English  adapter  familiar  with  theatrical  work,  he 
saw  the  force  of  my  suggestion  and  remained 
silent  for  a  moment;  but  only  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  said  with  simple  dignity  :  "  I  have  given 
him  my  word,  and  my  word  is  sacred  to  me." 
What  more  fitting  tribute  could  I  pay  to  the 
memory  of  a  man  who  united  the  naivete  of  a 
child  with  the  courage  and  strength  of  character 
of  a  hero  than  by  repeating  his  words  : 

"  I  have  given  him  my  word,  and  my  word 
is  sacred  to  me" — not  a  mere  scrap  of  paper. 

Dr.  Herzl's  only  son  was  educated  in  England, 
at  St.  Paul's  School  and  at  Cambridge.  Since  the 
war  began  he  has  enhsted,  and  is  now  serving  as 
a  private  in  the  British  Army. 


49 


CHAPTER  V 

SALONICA   AND   CONSTANTINOPLE 

Early  in  1897,  hard  on  the  rumours  of  trouble 
between  Greece  and  Turkey,  I  found  myself  in 
Salonica.  I  arrived  at  the  then  Turkish  port  on 
March  8th,  the  day  upon  which  Turkey  began  to 
mobilise  her  forces  and  to  push  them  forward  to 
the  frontier.  There  was  none  of  that  sudden  rush 
to  arms  which  has  marked  later  and  greater  wars. 
Turkey  was  still  inclined  to  turn  an  ear  to  the 
representations  of  the  Powers,  and  to  halt  before 
the  opening  blows  were  struck.  More  than  a  week 
went  by  and  I  was  still  at  Salonica,  with  little  to 
do  to  pass  the  time  except  read  the  newspapers 
and  listen  to  the  rumours  which  passed  like  waves 
through  the  population.  Now  and  then  a  warship 
came  into  the  bay  or  passed  where  it  might  be 
seen,  and  at  least  one  relief  from  the  daily  round 
of  life  was  provided  by  the  arrival  of  the  Duilio, 
then  the  largest  vessel  of  the  Italian  Navy,  and 
remarkable  for  her  spick-and-span  condition. 

The  population  of  Salonica  contained  a  large 
proportion  of  Greeks,  and  amid  these  excitable 
people  all  kinds  of  improbable  stories  ran  wild. 
Most  of  them  were  the  merest  fiction ;  some  had 

50 


The  English  at  Salonica 

their  varying  proportion  of  truth.  One  thing  was 
certain  :  life  had  become  decidedly  more  dangerous 
amid  the  prevailing  excitement.  There  were  raids 
and  murders  even  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  and 
it  was  risky  to  be  out  after  dark,  though  the 
temptation  to  go  for  a  well-cooked  dinner  and  the 
convivial  life  at  certain  of  the  social  centres  led 
one  to  take  risks.  The  life  in  the  city  had  many 
entertaining  aspects.  Nearly  half  the  population 
were  Jews,  most  of  them  of  a  fine  type,  for  the 
Jew  in  Turkey  has  ever  been  treated  with  tolera- 
tion and  even  kindness.  Only  recently  they  had 
celebrated  the  four-hundredth  anniversary  of  their 
arrival  in  the  country,  when  driven  from  Spain, 
and  had  marked  the  occasion  by  subscribing 
£T50,000  for  benevolent  purposes. 

The  Jews,  however,  were  but  one  element  in 
a  population  remarkable  for  its  cosmopolitan 
character.  There  was  a  prosperous  and  well- 
organised  German  colony,  the  members  of  which 
had  a  club  of  their  own  at  one  of  the  principal 
hotels.  More  singular  than  all  else  was  the  dis- 
covery I  made  of  an  English  public-house,  kept 
by  a  widow,  which  only  opened  its  doors  when  an 
English  squadron  put  into  the  bay,  did  a  roaring 
trade  during  its  stay,  and  then  sank  back  at  once 
to  its  silent,  shuttered  condition.  I  wonder  how 
it  fares  in  these  war  days,  with  English  troops  on 
every  hand?  Some  colour  was  lent  to  the  scene 
by  the  frequent  arrivals  and  departures  of  Turkish 
troops,  drawn  from  all  parts  of  an  Empire  which 

51 


Things  I  Remember 

stretched  into  two  continents  and  contained  some 
of  the  most  picturesque  peoples  on  the  face  of  the 
globe.  Mostly  they  came  and  went  in  the  night, 
their  plaintive  singing  or  raised  voices  as  they 
marched  drawing  me  many  times  to  my  window 
as  they  passed  the  hotel. 

Presently  I  received  my  instructions  to  proceed 
to  the  Turkish  headquarters  at  Elassona,  not  as 
war  correspondent,  for  I  was  ill-fitted  at  my  time 
of  life  for  such  a  strenuous  role,  but  with  the 
mission  of  obtaining  information  as  to  the  real 
position,  which  was  masked  by  every  description 
of  rumour.  Having  obtained  the  necessary  per- 
mission and  an  eseort,  I  found  in  a  Roumanian — 
one  Hermann  Chary,  formerly  in  the  service  of 
General  Gordon — an  interpreter  whose  fluent 
command  of  some  nine  or  ten  languages  had  not 
enabled  him  to  command  more  than  five  francs  a 
day  for  his  services  in  a  third-rate  hotel.  The 
first  part  of  the  journey  to  Karaferia  was  by  rail ; 
thence  eighty  miles  by  road  to  Elassona.  The 
armies  were  on  the  march,  and  the  scenes  along 
the  road  were  striking  as  we  passed  the  fantas- 
tically dressed  men,  loaded  with  quaint  baggage, 
who  were  moving  at  the  call  of  the  Sultan.  They 
toiled  forward  at  a  slower  pace  than  ourselves 
through  the  desolate  and  uncultivated  country 
which  had  once  formed  part  of  the  dominions  of 
Philip  and  Alexander  of  Macedonia.  Arrived  at 
Elassona,  a  town  of  some  four  thousand  inhabit- 
ants on  the  western  slope  of  Mount  Olympus,  I 

52 


At  Elassona 

found  that  the  correspondent  of  the  New  York 
Herald  was  welcomed,  being  regarded  by  the 
Turks  as  belonging  to  one  of  the  few  papers 
willing  to  give  them  fair  play.  I  was  housed  in 
the  home  of  the  mayor,  which  had  been  vacated, 
and  quickly  after  my  arrival  I  was  received  by 
Edhem  Pasha. 

The  Turkish  Commander-in-Chief  was  still  in 
the  prime  of  life  and  a  fine  representative  of  the 
high-bred  Turk.  With  all  the  dignity  of  the  true 
Oriental,  he  was  yet  simple  and  courteous,  and 
throughout  my  stay  I  was  the  recipient  of  many 
kindnesses  at  his  hands.  Yet  behind  his  amiability 
he  had  the  strength  necessary  to  his  position,  as 
some  of  the  war  correspondents  were  to  find  later. 
Several  of  these  gentlemen  arrived  in  military 
uniforms.  Quickly  they  were  told  that,  whatever 
their  right  to  wear  such  uniforms  in  their  own 
country,  they  were  in  Turkey  as  newspaper 
correspondents  only,  and  must  at  once  shed  their 
military  splendours  if  they  were  to  accompany 
the  expedition.  Possibly  few  of  these  gentlemen 
realised  that  even  then  they  were  celebrating  the 
funeral  of  the  great  days  of  the  war  correspond- 
ent. They  belonged  to  a  decaying  industry,  the 
members  of  which  were  shortly  to  be  reduced  to  a 
rigid  discipline  which  looks  upon  initiative  and 
enterprise  as  offences. 

The  correspondents  had  not  arrived  when  I 
was  at  Elassona.  I  came  into  contact  with  them 
after  my  return  to  Salonica,  where  a  small  army 

53 


Things  I  Remember 

of  them  were  awaiting  permission  to  go  to 
the  Front.  Among  them  was  Mr.  Bigham,  the 
representative  of  The  Times,  a  son  of  the  present 
Lord  Mersey.  He  was  young,  eager,  athletic, 
and  keen  about  his  work,  and  one  could  not  make 
his  acquaintance  without  feeling  that  here  was  one 
who  would  go  far  in  the  world.  He  was  excellently 
equipped  for  his  task,  as  he  both  spoke  and  read 
Turkish  and  wielded  a  graphic  and  ready  pen  in 
his  own  language.  His  subsequent  work  for  The 
Times  gave  him  a  reputation  which  was  added  to 
by  the  book  which  he  wrote  upon  the  campaign. 
I  am  glad  to  remember  that  I  rendered  Mr. 
Bigham  services  in  the  way  of  introductions  which 
enabled  him  to  reach  Elassona  well  in  advance  of 
his  rival  correspondents. 

For  myself  I  was  not  to  see  anything  of  the 
actual  operations  of  a  war  that  ended  so  speedily 
in  the  defeat  of  Greece,  which  was  only  saved  by 
the  intervention  of  the  Powers.  But  there  were 
many  stories  of  atrocities  committed  by  the  Turks. 
Experience  in  the  present  war,  in  which  our 
English  troops  have  been  in  conflict  with  Turks 
both  in  Europe  and  Asia,  has  served  to  show 
that  the  Turk  is  one  of  the  most  scrupulous  of 
fighters,  observing  carefully  the  conventions  of 
civilised  warfare.  That  does  not  surprise  one  who 
knows  the  Turkish  character.  As  a  fact  in  the 
war  with  Greece,  when  the  stories  of  atrocities 
were  most  rife,  the  correspondents  of  the  English 
newspapers  who  accompanied  the  Turkish  armies 

54 


Turkish  Military  Discipline 

bore  personal  testimony,  in  a  letter  to  the  British 
Embassy  at  Constantinople,  to  the  admirable  con- 
duct of  the  Ottoman  soldiery.  "  The  discipline 
and  conduct  of  the  Turkish  Army  have  been 
admirable,  and  can  be  most  favourably  compared 
with  that  of  the  best  troops  in  the  world,"  they 
said. 

The  first  signature  appended  to  this  document 
was  that  of  Sir  EUis  Ashmead  Bartlett,  M.P., 
whose  son  has  since  obtained  a  considerable  fame 
as  a  correspondent  in  the  Gallipoli  Peninsula. 
Had  that  been  the  only  name  the  testimony 
might  have  been  suspect,  for  in  the  British  Par- 
liament Sir  Ellis  was  the  most  conspicuous  of 
Philo-Turks.  Rather  sneered  at  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  where  his  robust  and  adjectival  oratory 
ill-suited  the  atmosphere,  he  was  one  of  the  most 
successful  of  platform  orators  and  an  enormous 
strength  to  the  Primrose  League  in  its  early  days. 
Certainly  my  own  little  acquaintance  with  Sir 
Ellis  Ashmead  Bartlett  gave  me  a  much  more 
favourable  impression  than  I  had  gathered  from 
the  common  tone  of  allusion  to  him. 

But  farewell  to  digression !  At  Elassona  I  was 
in  the  midst  of  a  vast  encampment  of  Turkish 
troops,  of  whom  over  fifty  thousand  were 
mobilised  about  the  little  town.  Diverse  as  were 
their  elements,  they  gave  one  the  sense  that  they 
had  in  them  the  making  of  a  most  successful 
army,  and  of  no  section  was  that  more  true  than 
of  the  Albanians,  who  were,  of  course,  still  the 

55 


Things  I  Remember 

subjects  of  the  Sultan.  The  men  were  to  prove 
their  quahty  a  few  weeks  later,  when  they  broke 
the  Greeks  at  Larissa  and  drove  them  into  panic- 
stricken  flight.  One  afternoon  I  rode  out  to  the 
Meluna  Pass,  which  formed  the  frontier  between 
Turkey  and  Greece.  Here  were  two  block-houses 
two  hundred  yards  apart,  the  one  occupied  by 
the  Turkish  guards,  the  other  by  Greeks.  The 
Sultan's  aide-de-camp,  who  accompanied  me, 
suggested  that  I  should  pass  over  to  the  Greek 
side,  and  there  I  encountered  a  Greek  officer 
trained  in  the  French  cavalry  school  at  Saumur, 
and  certainly  more  French  than  Greek  in  appear- 
ance. We  entered  into  conversation,  and  I  found 
him  supremely  confident  that  when  war  came,  as 
he  was  certain  it  would  come,  the  Greek  victory 
would  be  quick  and  decisive.  That  was  one  of  the 
illusions  which  actual  experience  was  to  shatter. 
As  we  spoke,  looking  down  into  the  valley  through 
which  Pompey  once  fled  as  a  fugitive,  we  could  see 
Larissa  in  the  distance,  with  the  white  tents  of 
the  Greek  Army  dotting  a  landscape  far  more 
verdant  than  that  on  the  other  side  of  the  frontier. 
Returning  to  Salonica  by  way  of  Katerina,  I 
found  the  Greek  town  in  a  ferment.  The  corre- 
spondents were  all  busy  with  their  preparations 
for  moving — engaging  servants,  buying  horses, 
adding  to  their  equipment.  The  EngUsh  public- 
house  had  stirred  into  life  and  was  driving  a 
roaring  trade.  A  large  contingent  of  German 
officers  had  arrived,  eager  to  put  their  services  at 

56 


A  Month  in  Constantinople 

the  command'  of  the  Turks.  A  hearty  swash- 
buekUng  crowd  they  were;  but  their  lust  for 
bloodshed  was  not  to  be  satisfied,  for  they  were 
all  summoned  back  to  Constantinople  after  a 
protest  from  the  Russian  Ambassador  against 
their  being  allowed  to  fight  in  a  cause  that  was 
not  their  own. 

War  was  actually  declared  on  the  17th  of  April, 
and  my  chief  recollection  of  the  day  is  of  the 
quiet  with  which  the  announcement  was  received. 
In  this  town  of  mixed  nationalities  there  was  no 
demonstration,  and  only  the  lowering  of  the  flag 
on  the  Greek  Consulate  conveyed  the  news  that 
all  uncertainty  was  at  an  end,  and  that  the  armies 
would  almost  immediately  be  at  grips.  Two  days 
later  I  left  for  Constantinople  as  the  only  pas- 
senger on  a  ship  which  carried  sixteen  hundred 
sheep,  so  crowded  on  the  deck  that  it  was  almost 
impossible  to  enter  or  leave  one's  cabin.  For  a 
month  I  was  in  the  Turkish  capital.  I  was  witness 
of  the  memorable  scene  when  the  venerable  Ghazi 
Osman  Pasha  left  for  the  seat  of  war.  He  passed 
to  the  station  amid  great  crow^ds,  mothers  lifting 
their  babies  to  be  kissed  by  the  old  soldier  and  old 
men  shedding  tears  as  they  saw  him.  He  had 
been  the  national  hero  of  1878,  and  he  still  held 
the  affection  of  the  people. 

Constantinople  itself  was  busy  with  all  the 
activities  by  which  the  civilian  element  helps  the 
soldiers  in  war  time.  At  the  request  of  the  Sultan 
I  visited  a  hospital  for  the  wounded  which  had 

57 


Things  I  Remember 

been  organised  in  the  grounds  of  the  Palace. 
Whatever  the  deficiencies  elsewhere,  there  were 
none  here.  The  hapless  soldiers,  who  were  con- 
tinually arriving,  were  lodged  in  huts,  and  the 
equipment  of  the  entire  hospital  was  modern  and 
on  the  most  sanitary  principles.  On  the  staff 
were  a  number  of  German  surgeons,  whose 
devotion  to  their  work  was  subsequently  rewarded 
by  high  decorations.  The  spirit  of  charity  was 
represented  by  the  "  Bazar  de  Secours,"  to  which 
came  the  most  remarkable  collection  of  gifts  that 
I  have  ever  seen.  The  wealthy  had  ransacked 
their  houses  for  quaint  curios;  the  Sultan  had 
given  lavishly  from  his  fine  collection  of  Oriental 
treasures.  From  the  Austrian  Emperor  came  a 
Louis  XV.  cabinet;  the  Kaiser  added  to  some 
pottery  from  the  Berlin  china  works  a  dozen 
autograph  prints  of  his  famous  cartoon  of  Europe 
defending  itself  against  the  Yellow  Peril.  I  later 
heard  that  the  whole  dozen  had  been  purchased 
by  the  Sultan  at  a  fancy  price,  Constantinople 
showing  no  desire  to  acquire  these  specimens  of 
Imperial  genius  at  second-hand. 

This  stay  in  Constantinople  gave  me  the 
acquaintance  of  Sir  Nelson  Miles,  then  Com- 
mander-in-Chief of  the  Army  of  the  United 
States,  of  Sir  Ellis  Ashmead  Bartlett,  and  of  Sir 
Philip  and  Lady  Currie,  who  dispensed  a  kindly 
and  generous  hospitality  at  the  British  Embassy, 
and  were  deservedly  popular  for  the  charm  with 
which  they  surrounded  their  life  in  a  foreign  city. 

58 


In  Bucharest 

On  my  way  back  to  London  I  spent  a  couple  of 
days  in  Bucharest,  where  I  renewed  my  previous 
acquaintance  with  M.  Demeter  Stourdza,  the 
Roumanian  Prime  Minister.  He  presented  me 
with  a  copy  of  the  first  volume  of  King  Carol's 
Reminiscences,  which  had  just  appeared  in 
German.  I  read  it  with  great  interest,  as  also, 
later,  the  other  volumes,  which  led  to  my  offering 
to  translate  this  important  political  work  into 
EngUsh.  My  proposal  was  accepted,  and  it 
subsequently  led  to  my  making  the  personal 
acquaintance  of  King  Carol,  who  continued  to 
give  me  many  proofs  of  his  good  will  down  to  the 
end  of  his  life. 

On  my  return  from  Constantinople  to  London 
I  represented  the  Herald  during  the  Jubilee  of 
Queen  Victoria's  sixtieth  anniversary  of  her  acces- 
sion to  the  throne.  Viewed  at  this  distance  of 
time  it  may  well  be  considered  to  have  been  the 
first  of  three  great  national  demonstrations  of 
the  sentiment  of  solidarity  of  the  English  race 
throughout  the  world  upon  which  the  future  of 
the  British  Empire  may  well  look  as  its  rocher  de 
bronze  in  her  civilising  mission  in  the  world. 
The  second  may  be  said  to  be  the  South  African 
War,  and  we  are  now  in  the  midst  of  the  third 
and  by  far  the  most  important  of  all  these 
tremendous  events.  But  to  the  journalist,  as 
perhaps  to  many  others,  the  Jubilee  wore  a  dif- 
ferent aspect — that  of  a  nerve-racking  excitement 
from  which  it  was  impossible  to  save  oneself  by 

59 


Things  I  Remember 

day  or  night ;  everywhere  that  blessed  word  which 
had  cast  the  terrors  of  Mesopotamia  in  the  shade 
dogged  one's  steps  and  clogged  one's  thoughts. 
Public  dinners,  with  ambassadorial  orations, 
Guildhall  receptions  and  Mansion  House  feasts 
followed  upon  each  other  until  the  climax  was 
reached  in  the  ever-memorable  pageant  through 
London  streets^ — a  wonder,  perhaps,  some  of  us 
did  not  live  to  become  the  first  inmates  of  the 
hospital  named  after  the  occasion. 

Some  years  afterwards  I  was  forcibly  reminded 
of  the  monotony  of  the  thing  by  meeting  Mark 
Twain  in  Regent  Street. 

'*  How  are  things  going  in  America?"  I  asked. 

"  Oh,"  he  replied,  "  the  American  people  are 
afflicted  with  an  attack  of  nerves.  We  are  suffer- 
ing from  our  newspapers  and  the  everlasting 
recurrence  of  the  name  of  Admiral  Dewey.  Ooir 
one  prayer  is  :  O  Lord  God,  save  us  from  Admiral 
Dewey!" 

Thus  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  when  it 
became  possible  to  seek  refuge  from  "  God  Save 
the  Queen ' '  and  take  a  holiday  in  the  idyllic 
Bohemian  watering-place  of  Marienbad,  where 
among  other  notabilities  the  Prince  of  Wales  was 
expected  ;  for  Homburg,  within  the  Kaiser's 
domains,  had  ceased  to  appeal  to  his  uncle. 


60 


CHAPTER   VI 

MARIENBAD   AND   VENICE 

The  town  of  Marienbad,  beautifully  situated 
nearly  two  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea,  with  its  stately  pine  forests,  offered  a  change 
indeed  from  the  dusty  pavement  of  Fleet  Street, 
and  it  soon  acted  as  a  tonic  upon  a  jaded  nervous 
system  still  feeling  the  effects  of  the  London 
Jubilee  ordeal.  A  crowd  of  English  had  already 
arrived  of  the  class  whose  names  one  sees  most 
frequently  in  the  papers — a  few  popular  actor- 
managers  and  Jubilee  knights  among  them — in 
expectation  of  the  arrival  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 
I  had  not  been  there  many  days  when  I  received 
a  telegram  from  Mr.  Bennett,  telling  me  that  a 
scurrilous  attack  on  Mr.  Labouchere  had  appeared 
in  a  London  paper,  and  asking  me  to  interview 
him  on  the  subject,  as  he  was  among  the  visitors 
at  Marienbad.  Mr.  Labouchere,  however,  to 
whom  Sir  Charles  Dilke  had  given  me  a  letter 
of  introduction,  declined  to  talk  for  purposes  of 
publication.  He  said :  ''In  sending  you  here 
Mr.  Bennett  has  asked  you  to  make  bricks  with- 
out straw ;  but  come  and  dine  with  us  instead.'* 
Following  on  this  auspicious  opening,  I  met  him 

6i 


Things  I  Remember 

repeatedly  and  had  several  conversations  with  him 
of  a  very  interesting  though  confidential  nature. 
Heretical  to  the  verge  of  blasphemy,  iconoclastic, 
almost  treasonable,  so  as  to  make  them  unfit 
for  publication  at  that  time,  their  gist  would 
scarcely  attract  notice  to-day.  So  great  are  the 
changes  through  which  we  have  since  passed.  Mr. 
Labouchere  told  me  that  he  came  to  Marienbad 
because  he  liked  the  place,  not  because  he  thought 
the  waters  of  any  use — or  those  of  Homburg 
either,  for  the  matter  of  that — whether  taken  by 
the  glass  or  the  bucket.  His  cynical  common  sense 
rebelled  against  accepting  any  temporary  remedy 
as  eflBcacious  for  the  cure  of  complaints  which 
were  often  due  to  a  lifelong  violation  of  the  laws 
of  hygiene,  particularly  as  regards  eating  and 
drinking;  to  think  otherwise  savoured  of  a  belief 
in  quackery.  In  referring  to  a  prominent  person 
who  was  reputed  to  be  a  free  liver,  he  said :  ''  If 
a  man  has  been  living  like  a  beast  for  the  best 
part  of  his  life,  the  proper  remedy  in  his  case, 
far  better  than  any  waters,  is  to  tie  him  up  like 
a  dog  in  a  kennel.  This  will  keep  him  out  of 
harm's  way,  and  then  Nature  will  do  the  rest." 
Labouchere's  many  years'  campaign  against 
scoundrels  whom  he  had  exposed  in  Truth  had 
made  him  a  fierce  hater  of  every  kind  of  roguery, 
sham  and  quackery — social,  medical  or  whatnot. 
From  what  he  told  me,  I  should  be  inclined  to 
think  that  his  hobby  of  exposing  rogues  and 
endeavouring  to  open  the  eyes  of  fools  was  one 

62 


A  Moment  with  Labouchere 

of  the  most  expensive  pastimes  in  which  a  man 
could  possibly  indulge.  He  said  that  although  he 
had  won  most  of  the  Hbel  suits  which  had  been 
forced  upon  him,  he  was  more  than  £40,000 
out  of  pocket,  owing  to  law  expenses  he  was 
unable  to  recover — a  statement  regarding  which 
he  appealed  to  Mrs.  Labouchere,  and  which  she 
corroborated  in  my  presence.  It  would  thus  seem 
that  legal  warfare  can  only  be  indulged  in  with 
safety  and  success  by  the  strong  in  pocket  as  well 
as  in  nerve.  I  also  asked  him  whether  his  law- 
suits had  not  been  a  source  of  great  worry  to  him. 
He  assured  me  that  he  had  got  so  accustomed  to 
them  that  they  finally  bored  him,  and  he  would 
send  a  representative  to  the  court  instead  of 
attending  in  person. 

To  anybody  familiar  with  the  tone  of  allusion 
to  Mr.  Labouchere  in  London  society,  it  was 
remarkable  to  see  the  terms  upon  which  he  stood 
with  the  better  class  of  English  visitors  assembled 
in  Marienbad.  Mr.  Labouchere  had  the  tempera- 
ment which  naturally  inclines  to  a  somewhat 
cynical  Radicalism,  and  it  suited  his  mood  to  be 
Venfant  terrible  of  English  politics.  But  he 
belonged  properly  to  the  class  which  he  took  an 
impish  delight  in  shocking,  and  here  at  Marien- 
bad one  found  him  on  the  best  of  terms  with 
people  who  shared  none  of  his  views.  The  Prince 
of  Wales  showed  a  frank  liking  for  the  man  who 
had  been  so  prominent  in  his  attacks  upon  the 
expenditure  of  Royalty,  and  on  his  table  were  to 

63 


Things  I  Remember 

be  seen  the  cards  of  nearly  all  the  noble  families 
who  were  'taking  the  waters."  Beneath  the 
steel-like  outer  surface  I  believe  Mr.  Labouchere 
had  a  kindly,  and  even  affectionate,  disposition, 
held  in  restraint  by  a  very  exceptional  balance  of 
mind  and  sanity  of  outlook.  His  contempt  for 
shams  of  all  kinds  was  conspicuous;  he  exposed 
their  unreality  with  a  single  stab  of  a  stiletto-like 
humour.  Frankly,  I  have  never  been  able  to 
understand  how  such  a  man,  with  his  clear  vision 
of  the  unrealities  of  political  life,  allowed  himself 
to  feel  bitter  disappointment  when  he  was  passed 
over  in  the  formation  of  the  Gladstone  Adminis- 
tration of  1892.  Yet  the  story  that  he  did  resent 
it  rests  on  a  basis  of  authenticity.  I  should  have 
thought  it  more  likely  that  his  weakness — or 
should  I  call  it  deficiency  ? — lay  in  a  very  different 
direction,  namely,  in  a  lack  of  appreciation  of  the 
enjoyment  of  life  to  be  had  by  a  lover  of  Nature 
and  of  the  many  small  things  which  a  vivid  and 
sjnupathetic  imagination  reveals  in  congenial 
surroundings. 

Some  time  afterwards  I  paid  him  a  visit  in  his 
palatial  home  in  Westminster,  where  I  found  him 
reading  a  certain  penny  weekly  newspaper,  of 
which  I  myself  have  long  been  a  regular  student, 
and  which  had,  as  I  discovered  subsequently.  King 
Edward  among  its  regular  subscribers.  It  was  a 
bright  and  fearlessly  conducted  paper  in  those 
days,  taboo  at  every  London  club  and  beneath 
the  notice  of  every  Court  lackey,  but  apparently 

64 


Sir  Henry  Campbell-Bannerman 

good  enough  for  England's  King  and  one  of  his 
most  clever,  cynical  subjects.  When  I  called  on  him 
in  London  he  was  engaged  in  one  of  his  last  libel 
suits,  in  which,  as  usual,  he  came  off  victorious. 
Referring  to  a  very  aggressive  and  otherwise  objec- 
tionable lady  implicated  in  the  case,  he  said  to  me  : 
''  You  only  need  look  at  her!"  How  much  some 
of  us  could  gain  if  we  only  possessed  that  insight 
which  really  sees  what  it  looks  at ! 

Many  of  the  notabilities  I  met  or  who  were 
pointed  out  to  me  are  dead,  buried  and  forgotten 
long  since.  There  was  one  notable  exception  in 
the  late  Sir  Henry  Campbell-Bannerman,  who 
used  to  take  his  morning  glass  of  water  walking 
in  company  with  the  Prince  of  Wales.  I  had 
several  conversations  with  him.  His  name  will 
always  be  cherished  and  remembered  with  honour 
by  those  who  have  the  best  interests  of  their 
country  at  heart  as  one  of  the  most  prominent 
influences  in  bringing  about  the  beneficial  settle- 
ment of  the  South  African  trouble.  Referring  to 
the  Jameson  Raid  one  day  with  him,  I  said  that 
it  was  unfortunate  that  it  had  given  the  German 
Emperor  a  plausible  excuse  to  interfere  and 
endeavour  to  place  England  in  the  wrong  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world.  Sir  Henry  replied :  **  It  was 
no  business  of  his ;  it  did  not  concern  him ;  it 
was  not  his  business " — a  remark  which  he 
repeated  with  emphasis,  and  the  full  significance 
of  which  this  war  has  finally  brought  home  to  the 
whole  world. 

F  65 


Things  I  Remember 

Before  leaving  Marienbad  a  friend  took  me  to 
see  an  old  gentleman  who  had  played  a  passive 
but  pathetic  part  in  one  of  the  great  tragedies 
of  the  century  :  the  execution  of  the  Emperor 
MaximiUan  of  Mexico,  at  Queretaro  (June  19th, 
1867).  He  was  the  Emperor's  medical  attendant, 
Dr.  von  Meyer,  who  spent  the  Emperor's  last 
night  with  him  in  his  cell.  I  asked  him  how  the 
Emperor  bore  up  under  the  dreadful  ordeal.  He 
rephed  :  ''Very  well!  What  affected  him  more 
particularly  was  the  fate  of  the  two  Mexican 
Generals,  Miramon  and  Mejia,  who  had  remained 
faithful  to  him  and  were  to  share  his  end."  He 
told  me  that  the  Mexican  President,  Juarez, 
would  have  been  willing  to  spare  the  Emperor's 
life,  but  the  fact  that  he  had  caused  Mexican 
officers  to  be  shot  who  had  fought  against  him 
was  tantamount  to  his  own  death  sentence,  for 
Mexican  public  opinion  insisted  on  his  execution, 
and  this  the  President  was  powerless  to  resist. 

I  had  been  in  Marienbad  about  three  weeks 
when  I  received  a  telegram  from  Mr.  Bennett 
asking  me  to  join  him  on  his  yacht  at  Venice. 
This  trip  proved  to  be  one  of  the  most  delightful 
of  my  many  reminiscences  of  travel.  In  passing 
through  Munich  my  friend  Lenbach  met  me  at 
the  station,  and  introduced  me  to  Sir  Rowland 
and  Lady  Blennerhassett,  who  were  in  his  com- 
pany. A  break  in  the  train  connection  at  Verona 
afforded  me  an  opportunity  of  a  few  hours  to 
visit  some  of  the  many  interesting  sights  of  that 

66 


Verona  and  Venice 

great  historical  city,  of  which  I  sent  a  description 
to  the  Herald.  There  were  the  supposed  houses 
of  the  Montagues  and  Capulets,  in  the  dilapidated 
gateway  of  one  of  which  stood  a  cart  loaded  with 
straw.  I  visited  the  reputed  grave  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet;  I  inspected  the  palace  and  monument  of 
the  renowned  Scaliger  family ;  and,  most  remark- 
able of  all,  the  imposing  amphitheatre  built  by 
the  Emperor  Diocletian,  with  its  white  marble 
seats,  from  which,  1,600  years  ago,  twenty  thou- 
sand spectators  had  applauded  the  gladiatorial 
contests. 

Seventeen  years  previously  I  had  visited 
Venice,  and  been  somewhat  disappointed.  On  the 
present  occasion,  however,  the  thought  was  forced 
upon  me  that  my  disenchantment  was  entirely 
due  to  my  own  unripeness  of  mind,  my  inability 
to  appreciate  the  wonderful  charm  of  this  most 
entrancing  centre  of  historical  culture  and  artistic 
reminiscence.  One  little  change  only  had  appar- 
ently taken  place  since  my  previous  visit,  but  it 
was  one  of  an  unsympathetic  nature,  brought 
home  to  me  in  all  its  incongruity  by  the  gondolier 
who  took  me  out  to  Mr.  Bennett's  yacht.  I  refer 
to  the  little  black  steamers  which  plied  along  the 
canals  and  competed  thus  with  the  monopoly  of 
water  traffic  hitherto  held  by  the  guild  of  gondo- 
liers. In  such  picturesque  surroundings  these 
ugly  little  creatures  reminded  one  of  the  black 
water-beetles  which  swarm  in  stagnant  pools. 

"  E  una  brutta  roba,   Signore "   ("It  is  an 

67 


Things  I  Remember 

ugly  business")?  said  the  gondolier,  with  a  con- 
temptuous sigh.  Remarkable  are  the  evidences  of 
old  social  manners  still  to  be  observed  even  among 
the  humbler  classes  of  this  entrancing  Queen  of 
the  Adriatic.  The  tourist  would  be  of  exceptional 
mien  and  bearing  not  to  constitute  an  eyesore  in 
Venice.  On  my  previous  visit  I  engaged  the 
identical  gondolier  who  had  served  the  Emperor 
Frederick  when  visiting  there  as  Crown  Prince. 
He  was  a  splendid  type  of  man,  and  little  inferior 
in  dignity  of  bearing  to  many  a  prince  born  in 
the  purple  and  ever  so  much  handsomer.  What 
a  thousand  years  of  close  association  with  art  and 
song  have  done  for  this  population  can  be  gauged 
by  the  voice,  gesture  and  bearing  of  the  humblest 
among  them.  The  tone  of  voice  in  which  those 
simple  words,  ^'Signore,  O  Signorina,"  can  be 
pitched,  to  express  every  shade  of  feeling  from 
deference  to  delight,  must  be  heard  in  order  to  be 
appreciated.  A  few  days'  stay  in  Venice  enables 
us  to  understand  the  story  of  the  Italian  soldatesca 
about  to  destroy  a  monastery  near  Florence,  but 
who  desisted  and  even  went  on  their  knees  on 
seeing  a  masterpiece  of  Andrea  del  Sarto  on  the 
wall. 

Shortly  before  my  arrival  a  fire  had  taken 
place  at  which  several  firemen  had  been  killed. 
They  were  given  a  public  funeral,  which  I  wit- 
nessed. It  passed  across  the  San  Marco  Place  : 
a  most  impressive  sight.  The  historic  guilds,  with 
their  emblems,  were  in  the  procession,  and  moved 

68 


Serenading  Mn  Bennett 

towards  the  San  Marco  Cathedral  to  the  strains 
of  Chopin's  "Funeral  March,"  a  banner  being 
borne  aloft  with  the  inscription :  '*  Morto  pel 
Dovere." 

Mr.  Bennett's  yacht,  the  Namouna,  was 
anchored  about  half  a  mile  from  the  shore, 
directly  opposite  the  San  Marco  Piazza.  The 
ship's  party  consisted  of  several  American  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  the  French  painter.  Monsieur 
Gervex,  and  his  wife,  and  a  delightful  Italian 
duke,  who  apparently  was  either  Premier  Cham- 
berlain or  the  fidus  Achates  of  the  host  and 
owner.  It  was  a  lovely  September  evening,  such 
as  is  only  to  be  met  with  in  those  parts,  when, 
after  dinner  on  deck,  the  company  gave  them- 
selves over  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  scene.  It 
was  getting  late,  the  white  hull  of  the  Namouna 
making  the  only  contrast  to  the  dark  waters,  and 
a  thousand  tiny  lights  gleaming  from  floor  and 
windows  on  the  shore,  when  a  black  mass  could 
be  seen  indistinctly  to  leave  the  quay — the  Riva 
dei  Schiavoni — and  move  out  slowly  toward  us. 
Sounds  of  voices,  at  first  faint  and  distant,  reached 
our  ears ;  and  as  they  came  nearer,  more  distinct, 
it  became  evident  that  they  proceeded  from  a 
Venetian  galley  with  a  number  of  people  on 
board.  As  it  turned  out,  there  was  to  be  a 
serenade  in  honour  of  the  distinguished  million- 
aire guest  from  "beyond  the  seas"  who,  in  his 
luxurious  yacht,  had  favoured  the  Queen  of  the 
Adriatic  with  a  visit.    Such  a  compliment  necessi- 

69 


Things  I  Remember 

tated  some  return,  and  the  serenade  was  intended 
as  a  recognition.  With  the  aid  of  glasses  we 
could  see  the  oars  dipping  into  the  water,  and  a 
harmonium  on  board — the  old  Italian  world  of 
culture  was  about  to  pay  homage  to  the  new 
world  of  commerce  and  enterprise.  Mr.  Bennett 
seized  the  situation  at  a  glance.  The  ship's  band, 
consisting  of  members  of  the  crew,  were  called 
upon  deck,  and  ordered  to  play  "  The  Star- 
Spangled  Banner,"  and  then  "  God  Save  the 
Queen  ' ' — a  queer  medley  of  sound  to  chime  in 
with  the  soft  strains  of  a  Venetian  choral  song. 

Next  morning  Mr.  Bennett  informed  me  that, 
in  a  recent  interview  with  the  Sultan,  he  had 
suggested  to  His  Majesty  that  the  Turkish 
Government  should  send  a  special  Commission  of 
Inquiry  into  Armenia  to  verify  the  facts  con- 
nected with  the  disturbances  of  the  last  two 
years,  and  that  he  should  allow  the  New  York 
Herald  to  be  represented  on  it. 

The  Sultan  was  favourably  disposed  to  the 
idea,  and  proposed  that  I  should  be  the  person 
selected  to  accompany  the  expedition.  To  this 
Mr.  Bennett  had,  as  he  told  me,  demurred;  not 
that  he  had  any  reason  to  doubt  my  reliability, 
but  the  fact  remained  that  it  was  already  known  in 
America  that  I  had  had  personal  relations  with 
the  Sultan.  This  in  itself  would  make  it  desirable 
that  somebody  else  should  report  on  this  par- 
ticular subject.  It  was  finally  agreed  with  the 
Sultan  that  a  member  of  the  New  York  staff  of 

70 


Off  to  Armenia 

the  paper  (the  late  Dr.  George  H.  Hepworth) 
should  be  the  correspondent,  the  Sultan  making 
his  final  consent  dependent  upon  my  accompany- 
ing the  expedition  as  well.  Mr.  Bennett  went  on 
to  say  to  me  that  he  had  long  desired  to  place  his 
readers  in  a  position  to  judge  things  for  them- 
selves from  information  gathered  on  the  spot; 
and  that  this  matter  was  one  of  exceptional 
interest  to  the  American  public,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  Sultan  had  hitherto  declined  to 
allow  any  newspaper  correspondent  whatsoever  to 
traverse  Armenia,  let  alone  offer  facilities  for  so 
doing. 

''  You  will  render  the  Herald  a  great  service 
in  undertaking  this  expedition,"  Mr.  Bennett 
concluded;  ''for,  unless  you  go,  it  will  not 
start." 

It  is  not  often  that  any  man  has  an  oppor- 
tunity of  visiting  an  unknown  country  with  all 
the  paraphernalia  attending  the  progress  of  a 
governor  of  a  province  and  at  one  and  the  same 
time  of  obliging  an  autocratic  ruler  and  a  great 
newspaper  proprietor.  I  therefore  accepted;  it 
being  distinctly  understood  that  mine  was  ''  a 
watching  brief  "  on  behalf  of  the  Turks,  and  that 
I  should  not  be  called  upon  to  write  at  all,  unless 
a  controversy  arose.  Fortunately,  the  necessity 
did  not  arise  to  submit  to  such  an  ordeal.  I  may 
add  that,  being  firmly  convinced  that  injustice 
had  been  done  to  the  Turks,  at  least  as  regards 
charging    them    with    religious    persecution,     I 

71 


Things  I  Remember 

willingly  undertook  the  task  offered  me  of  seeing 
''fair  play"  given  to  them. 

At  this  distance  of  time  I  do  not  hesitate  to 
say  that,  had  I  known  the  true  nature  of  the  task 
I  was  undertaking,  I  should  not  have  accepted 
Mr.  Bennett's  offer,  and  never  have  set  a  foot  in 
Armenia;  particularly  not  in  the  winter,  involv- 
ing a  journey  fraught  with  extreme  hardships  and 
peril,  the  more  so  as  neither  Dr.  Hep  worth  nor 
I  myself  was  quite  fitted,  at  our  time  of  life,  to 
encounter  them.  In  fact,  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely 
that  the  hardships  of  this  journey  contributed  to 
shorten  his  life.  As  it  was,  the  series  of  articles 
which  sprang  out  of  the  trip  proved  one  of  the 
greatest  journalistic  successes  which  the  New  York 
Herald  put  to  its  credit  for  many  a  year.  In  return 
for  my  share  in  the  coup,  however,  I  never  received 
the  value  of  a  postage  stamp,  either  from  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  New  York  Herald  or  from  the  Sultan 
of  Turkey. 


72 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   SPANISH-AMERICAN   WAR 

Viewed  in  retrospective,  few  events  within  the 
memory  of  the  present  generation  illustrate  more 
forcibly  the  diflPerence  between  the  impression  of 
the  moment  as  reflected  through  the  Press  and 
the  more  dispassionate  estimate  of  things  obtained 
by  time — say,  by  the  lapse  of  a  decennium  or 
two — than  the  Spanish- American  War.  To  the 
former  it  was  little  else  than  an  accident  brought 
about  by  the  sinking  of  a  warship,  but  for  which 
it  might  never  have  taken  place.  To-day,  few 
would  doubt  that,  whatever  incident,  provocation 
or  Yellow-Press  incitement  may  have  been  respon- 
sible for  the  outbreak,  the  true  origin  or  source  of 
the  war  lay  far  deeper.  Without  transgressing 
the  limits  set  in  these  pages,  it  may  yet  be  said 
that  this  Spanish-American  War  was  the  latest 
of  three  distinct  efforts  of  the  huge  American 
organism  to  shake  off  certain  influences  of  feudal 
Europe,  against  which  nearly  half  the  world  is  in 
arms  to-day. 

The  first  of  these  organic  manifestations — one 
still  within  living  memory — came  as  a  sequel  to 
the  attempt  of  Napoleon  III.  to  found  a  Habs- 

73 


Things  I  Remember 

burg  autocracy  in  Mexico,  and  thereby  to  create 
a  counterpoise  to  the  growing  power  of  the  United 
States.  The  Emperor  Maximihan,  the  wife- willed, 
soft-pated  simulacrum,  tried  murderous  Habsburg 
methods  when  he  ordered  Mexican  officers  who 
had  fought  against  him  for  the  hberty  of  their 
country  to  be  executed.  He  righteously  met  the 
fate  which  he  and  his  House  had  so  often  decreed 
for  others,  hitherto  with  impunity  to  themselves. 
Count  Herbert  Bismarck  discussed  this  Mexican 
adventure  with  me  one  day,  and  gave  it  as  his 
opinion — presumably  also  that  of  his  great  father 
— that,  from  a  collective  European  point  of  view, 
there  was  something  to  be  said  in  its  favour. 
"  It  was  a  shrewd  political  move  on  the  part  of 
the  French  Emperor,"  he  said;  ''but  Queen 
Victoria  and  her  Ministers  were  responsible  for 
England's  declining  to  take  a  hand  in  it,  and  this 
foredoomed  it  to  failure." 

The  second  convulsion  of  this  cataclysmal 
nature  took  place  in  the  year  1889,  in  the  depo- 
sition of  the  Emperor  of  Brazil.  Having  no  son 
of  his  own,  he  had  endeavoured  to  perpetuate  his 
dynasty  by  securing  the  succession  to  his  daughter, 
the  Countess  d'Eu,  who  was  very  unpopular. 
This  attempt,  together  with  the  clashing  of  other 
conflicting  interests,  resulted  in  his  dethronement. 
But  if  Don  Pedro  stood  for  a  system  which  Brazil 
rejected,  historical  justice  will  place  it  on  record 
that  the  last  representative  of  Monarchy  in  the 
American  continent  was  a  man  of  brilliant  intel- 

74 


America  Intervenes 

lectual  attainments  and  high  personal  character. 
When  the  Republic  offered  him  a  pension  of  a 
milUon  a  year,  he  sent  the  dignified  reply  that 
the  only  gift  he  would  consent  to  accept  was  six 
feet  of  Brazilian  soil  for  his  grave.  It  should  also 
be  remembered  as  a  meiriento  of  his  humane 
leanings  that  he  never  signed  a  death  warrant. 
He  said  to  his  friend  Adolphe  Franck, 
the  distinguished  French  philosopher :  "  On 
condamme  les  assassins  a  mort  chez  nous,  mais 
je  les  gracie  toujours ;  et  je  ne  crois  pas  que 
par  mon  action  il  se  commet  un  seul  assassinat 
de  plus." 

The  turn  of  Spain  had  now  come  to  be  told 
by  America  that  autocratic  European  methods — 
militarism.  Church  rule  and  dynastic  pranks — had 
been  tolerated  long  enough.  Spain  was  ordered 
to  clear  out.  Whatever  else  may  threaten  the 
future  stability  of  the  United  States — and  it 
looks  to-day  as  if  the  only  cloud  on  the  horizon 
were  Pan-German  obsessions — the  soul  of  the 
whole  American  continent,  from  the  Great 
Lakes  to  Patagonia,  is  apparently  at  one  in  the 
determination  not  to  tolerate  immigration,  except 
of  the  clean-living,  well-behaved,  law-abiding 
citizen  :  those  elements  which  are  prepared  and 
ready  to  live  and  let  live — according  to  the 
standard  set  up  in  Goethe's  ''  Faust "  of  the  road- 
maker  as  a  useful  member  of  a  peaceful  society. 
The  three  thousand  miles  of  unfortified  frontier 
between  Canada  and  the  United  States,  stretch- 

75 


Things  I  Remember 

ing  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  Ocean,  are 
emblematical  of  the  ideals  which  America  finds 
sufficient  for  her  purpose  to  regulate  her  relations 
between  herself  and  her  neighbours. 

These  few  remarks  are  meant  in  explanation  of 
the  attitude  of  American  opinion  as  represented 
by  the  Herald  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Spanish- 
American  crisis.  Sections  of  the  American  Press 
clamoured  for  war;  the  Herald,  ever  a  sane  and 
moderating  influence  in  dealing  with  great  ques- 
tions, was  for  avoiding  it,  if  possible.  True, 
however,  to  its  traditional  policy,  it  proceeded  to 
open  its  columns  to  views  on  every  side,  and  to 
none  was  this  more  liberally  accorded  than  to 
Germany,  although  the  Press  of  that  country  was 
never  tired  of  accusing  the  Herald  of  being  anti- 
German.  Thus  I  received  instructions  to  proceed 
to  Berlin  to  sound  German  opinion. 

In  spite  of  what  has  since  taken  place,  I  cannot 
to-day  recall  any  evidence  to  support  the  conten- 
tion that  German  sentiment  was,  as  has  been 
averred,  in  any  way  in  favour  of  Spain,  the  hope- 
lessness of  whose  regime  in  Cuba  was  frankly 
recognised  everywhere  among  the  prominent  per- 
sonages I  met  and  the  responsible  editors  I 
interviewed.  These  included  the  editors  of  the 
Cologne  Gazette,  the  North  German  Gazette,  the 
Vossische  Zeitung  and  the  Berliner  Tagehlatt. 
The  editor  of  the  North  German  Gazette  had 
been,  if  I  remember  rightly,  a  tutor  in  the 
Spanish  Royal  Family,  and  he  pleaded  a  senti- 

76 


Prince  Hohenlohe 

mental  personal  sympathy  with  Spain  on  that 
account,  but  nothing  more. 

The  military  experts  I  interviewed,  all  recog- 
nised authorities,  took  a  most  unfavourable  view 
of  the  chances  of  the  United  States  as  against  the 
Spanish  military  forces.  In  this,  as  subsequent 
events  proved,  they  were  mistaken,  as  well  as 
ignorant  of  those  psychic  forces  dormant  in 
the  English-speaking  races  which  were,  later, 
destined  to  stand  up  against  and,  let  us  hope, 
to  break  the  German  soul-killing  military  machine. 
But  none  of  them  seemed  imbued  with  any  par- 
ticular leanings  for  Spain,  and  I  am  inclined  to 
attach  a  certain  significance  to  this  fact,  for  it 
tends  to  show  that  down  to  this  particular  period 
the  German  people  as  a  whole  were  not  yet 
infected  with  the  virus  which  subsequently  led 
them  to  entertain  desires  and  ambitions  which 
neither  their  racial  character  nor  historical 
traditions  fit  them  to  realise. 

That  this  was  their  mental  attitude  was  also 
recognised  in  the  New  York  Herald  by  the  keen- 
sighted  proprietor,  whose  estimate  of  the  situation 
was  emphatically  expressed  at  the  time  in  the 
editorials  of  the  paper.  Yet  even  at  that  time 
there  was  a  suicidal  element  at  work  which  could 
easily  have  thrust  Germany  into  troubled  waters. 
Prince  Hohenlohe  was  still  German  Chancellor, 
but,  as  we  may  glean  from  his  most  illuminative 
''  Memoirs,"  the  old  man  was  already  very  tired 
of  Imperial  shoutings  and  brass  band  accompani- 

77 


Things  I  Remember 

ments.  He  was  on  the  box,  it  is  true,  but  the 
reins  had  already  fallen  from  his  hands  and  were 
in  the  grasp  of  one  who  soon  proved  himself  to 
be  a  past-master  in  the  art  of  hypnotising  those 
with  whom  he  came  into  contact.  The  Italian 
spirit  of  Machiavelli  was  already  actively  at  work 
to  assist  the  German  race,  egged  on  by  the 
demented  vanity  of  one  man,  to  rush  to  its  ruin. 
The  Rat-catcher  of  Hamelin  piped  his  enticing 
tune  to  their  children,  a  million  of  whom  were 
destined  to  be  lured  later  from  town  and  village, 
and  to  disappear  beneath  the  ground.  This  evil 
foreboding  spirit  was  represented  at  Washington 
in  the  person  of  the  German  Ambassador,  Dr.  von 
HoUeben,  whose  cabale  against  Lord  Pauncefote 
is  said  to  have  hastened  the  latter's  untimely  end. 

Attempts  were  made  to  exploit  Bismarck's 
great  name  in  this  new  departure,  though  it  was 
entirely  opposed  to  his  teachings.  Thus  a  rumour 
had  got  about  that  the  Prince  had  definitely 
expressed  himself  on  the  Spanish- American  War 
in  an  interview  with  some  journalist.  I  wrote  to 
his  son-in-law.  Count  Rantzau,  on  the  subject, 
and  received  the  following  reply  :  "  My  father- 
in-law  has  not  seen  any  journalist  whatever  for 
months  past."  This  message  was  published  in 
the  Herald  on  the  3rd  of  June,  1898,  less  than 
two  months  before  Bismarck's  death,  and  should 
definitely  dispose  of  any  suggestion  that  he  had 
intervened  in  any  way. 

Among  the  distinguished  persons   I  met  in 

78 


The  Manila  Bay  Incident 

Berlin  on  this  occasion  was  the  United  States 
Ambassador,  that  eminent  scholar  and  Germano- 
phile,  Mr.  Andrew  White,  with  whom  I  may 
claim  to  have  been  on  terms  of  friendship,  for 
he  invited  me  to  his  house  and  was  a  generous 
appreciator  of  my  writings  on  Germany.  It  was 
only  some  years  afterwards,  however,  that  I  was 
informed  from  a  reliable  source  of  an  incident 
said  to  have  taken  place  at  this  particular  time. 
It  throws  curious  light  on  the  sinister  Manila  Bay 
difficulty  as  one  among  so  many  of  the  insidious 
endeavours  of  the  Emperor's  representatives 
abroad  to  ''break  through"  and  "get  a  place 
in  the  sun."  As  this  incident,  like  so  many 
other  important  matters,  has  probably  slipped 
from  public  memory,  it  may  be  as  well  to  recall 
that  the  Manila  Bay  incident  was  the  first  of  the 
barefaced,  blundering  attempts  to  challenge  the 
world  to  single  combat,  the  culmination  of  which 
we  are  now  witnessing.  The  admiral  in  command 
of  the  German  squadron  in  Manila  Bay,  doubtless 
acting  under  direct  Imperial  inspiration,  trucu- 
lently attempted  to  dispute  the  claim  of  the 
United  States  navy  to  maintain  the  blockade  in 
Manila  waters;  and  in  his  manner  of  going  to 
work  he  already  exhibited  those  characteristic 
features  of  hectoring  bounce  and  effrontery  with 
which  we  have  since  been  made  so  familiar. 

According  to  my  authority,  Mr.  White,  call- 
ing one  day  on  the  German  Secretary  of  Foreign 
Affairs,  the  late  Baron  Richthofen,  suggested  to 

79 


Things  I  Remember 

him  that,  as  Germany  was  so  eager  for  naval 
stations,  the  situation  in  the  Philippines  presented 
a  favourable  opportunity  to  reaUse  her  ambitions. 
If  this  story  be  true,  it  would  be  quite  sufficient 
to  account  for  the  self-assertive  attitude  taken  up 
by  Admiral  Dietrichs  in  Manila  Bay,  which  was 
so  admirably  checkmated  by  Admiral  Dewey  and 
Captain  Chichester. 

In  addition  to  the  unimpeachable  source  from 
which  I  hold  this  matter,  my  personal  knowledge 
of  Mr.  Andrew  D.  White  and  his  Germanophile 
leanings  leads  me  to  believe  in  the  inherent  prob- 
ability of  this  story,  without,  however,  attaching 
thereto  any  deep  political  conception  on  his  part 
of  its  possible  consequences.  The  fact  that  Mr. 
White  was  shortly  afterwards  recalled  by  the 
United  States  Government  would  tend  to  show 
that  he  had  allowed  his  personal  sympathies  to 
outrun  that  discretion  which  the  cooler  heads  of 
Washington  deemed  necessary  in  the  responsible 
person  of  a  United  States  ambassador. 

As  in  the  present  war  the  President  of  the 
United  States  sent  a  confidential  agent  to  Europe 
on  a  mission  outside  the  official  lines  of  diplomacy, 
so  also  in  the  course  of  the  Spanish-American 
War  President  McKinley  entrusted  with  a  similar 
mission  a  gentleman  whose  name,  unfortunately, 
has  escaped  me.  He  was  staying  in  Berlin,  and 
my  friend.  Professor  Hans  Delbriick,  gave  a 
dinner  in  his  honour,  to  which  I  also  received  an 
invitation.     It  turned  out  to  be  one  of  the  most 

80 


A  Galaxy  of  Professors 

memorable  dinner  parties  I  ever  attended,  for  it 
included  representatives  of  the  Germany  I  had 
known  from  my  youth  upwards  and  several  of  a 
very  different  type,  destined  to  do  their  share  in 
bringing  about  the  present  catastrophe  and  con- 
cerning whose  identity  the  outer  world  is  still 
imperfectly  informed. 

The  guests,  as  I  recall  them,  included 
Professor  Schmoller,  Professor  Adolf  Hamack, 
Professor  Schiemann  and  Admiral  von  Tirpitz, 
and  it  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  gathering 
more  suggestive  of  coming  events — as  well  as  of 
the  scathing  indictment  of  the  character  of  the 
German  professor  contained  in  Schopenhauer's 
famous  essay,  "  Ueber  die  Universitats  Philoso- 
phic "  (Schopenhauer's  Werke,  Vol.  V.).  Har- 
nack  was  and  still  is  the  Court-favoured  Lutheran 
theologian,  a  voluminous  writer  on  the  historical 
aspect  of  God's  word.  Loaded  with  Imperial 
favours,  the  coveted  title  of  "  Excellency  "  thrown 
in,  highly  esteemed  by  our  own  Cambridge  and 
Oxford  dons,  and  yet  an  ominous  type  in  times 
of  srtress  and  danger.  Heinrich  Heine,  no  mean 
authority,  tells  us  that  "in  Germany  it  is  the 
theologians  who  put  an  end  to  God,  w^ho  finish 
off  the  Deity." 

In  Professor  Schiemann  and  Admiral  von 
Tirpitz  I  met  two  men  who  w^ere  destined  to 
exercise  a  far  greater  influence  on  future  develop- 
ments than  could  have  been  foreseen  at  that  time ; 
both  typical  "  Baltians "    (natives  of  the  Baltic 

G  8i 


Things  I  Remember 

provinces) ;  one  a  born  Russian  subject,  therefore 
a  renegade !  The  term  "  Baltian  "  as  used  in  this 
connection  may  be  worthy  of  a  word  of  elucidation, 
for  recent  facts  in  history  are  easily  overlooked, 
and  the  Russian  renegade  Baltians  have  played  a 
big  part  in  the  upheaval  in  Germany.  Racial 
psychology  teaches  us  that  under  certain  favourable 
conditions  the  blending  of  races  is  apt  to  produce 
desirable  results.  This  was  one  of  Bismarck's  pet 
themes.  But  the  very  opposite  may  be  said  to  be 
the  product  of  undesirable  elements.  Some  of  the 
worst  Prussian  camarilla  chiefs  have  been  drawn 
from  the  Prussian  nobility  of  the  Baltic  provinces. 
The  Baltic  amalgam  is  only  too  apt  to  accentuate 
the  cunning,  the  astuteness  of  the  Slav,  added  to 
the  less  desirable  qualities  of  the  low-grade  Teu- 
ton. It  was  this  particular  mongrel  Slavonic  and 
Teuton  type  which  Napoleon  I.  probably  had  in 
mind  when  he  said  of  the  Emperor  Alexander  I.  : 
'*  II  m'a  triche  comme  un  Grec  du  Bas  Empire  " 
(meaning  the  Empire  of  Byzance). 

It  is  not  generally  known,  or,  if  known,  has 
long  since  passed  from  public  memory,  that  Russia 
started  a  gigantic  house-cleaning  in  the  'eighties. 
It  took  the  form  of  the  so-called  Russification 
of  the  Russian  Baltic  provinces.  In  default  of 
exact  knowledge,  we  are  bound  to  assume  that 
the  Russian  Government  had  weighty  reasons  for 
an  action  which  provoked  an  explosion  of  fierce 
denunciation  in  Germany  and  Liberal  resentment 
in  England  and  elsewhere.     Among  other  means 

82 


A  Sinister  Influence 

employed  was  a  systematic  elimination  of  the 
German  element  from  the  Russian  schools  and 
universities  in  those  provinces.  This  brought 
about  the  ejectment  of  a  number  of  professors  of 
German  origin  but  of  Russian  birth  and  nation- 
ality, hitherto  earning  their  livelihood  in  Russia, 
and  who  were  in  reality  Russian  subjects.  They 
sought  refuge  in  Germany,  and  have  since  formed 
one  of  the  most  active  anti-Russian  influences  in 
intellectual  Germany.  The  Harnack  family  is  one 
of  the  most  notable  among  these,  for  not  only 
its  present  representatives,  but  their  father  was 
born  in  Russia.  Professor  Theodor  Schiemann, 
however,  may  fairly  claim  to  be  the  most  typical 
of  them  all.  His  contributions  for  years  past  to 
the  Kreuz  Zeitung  and  diverse  German  monthlies, 
combined  with  the  favour  he  was  supposed  to 
enjoy  with  the  Emperor,  stamp  him  as  one  of 
those  men  who  have  contributed  their  share 
to  bring  about  the  mental  conditions  favourable 
to  the  present  war.  Our  newspaper  oracles  have 
often  referred  to  Schiemann  as  the  '*  Emperor's 
political  adviser";  all  that  could  be  shown  in 
proof,  however,  was  that  Professor  Schiemann 
had  been  one  of  the  occasional  guests  that  His 
Majesty  had  invited  on  his  yachting  excursions. 
The  German  Baltic  element  does  not  bear  a 
particularly  favourable  reputation,  but  Professor 
Schiemann — since  a  German  Privy  Councillor,  a 
post  which  he  owed,  I  believe,  to  the  favour  of 
the   Emperor,   for  so   far  as   I   know   his  main 

83 


Things  I  Remember 

activity  has  always  been  that  of  a  polemical 
journaUst — was  born  a  Russian  subject,  and 
educated  at  the  Russian  University  of  Dorpat. 
What  is  the  nature  of  his  leanings  may  be 
gathered  from  his  writings,  which  are  intensely 
anti-Russian.  They  are  those  of  a  renegade. 
The  ''  Diaries  of  Victor  Hehn,"  ^  a  gifted  writer, 
also  born  a  Russian  subject,  which  Schiemann 
published,  form  the  most  mahcious  libel  on  the 
Russian  national  character  which  has  ever  appeared 
in  any  language. 

I  once  drew  the  attention  of  Prince  Biilow 
to  the  dangerous  nature  of  this  man's  writings,  as 
regards  his  rabid  Russophobe  and  Anglophobe 
propaganda.  The  Prince  replied  that  he  never 
looked  at  his  articles  once  in  six  months.  Still, 
the  easy-going  English  newspaper  correspondents 
in  Berlin  continued  to  quote  Schiemann 's  articles 
and  dub  him  the  political  adviser  of  the  Emperor, 
without  apparently  being  aware  of  the  contradic- 
tion between  this  assumption  and  that  which 
credited  perfect  independence  of  judgment  to  His 
Majesty.  There  can  be  little  doubt  to-day  that 
the  astute  Professor  trimmed  his  sails  with  exact 
knowledge  of  how  the  Imperial  wind  was  blowing, 
when  from  one  year's  end  to  the  other  he  preached 
hatred  of  Russia  and  enmity  to  England. 

Seated  between  men  of  this  type  Professor 
Delbriick  has  often  come  to  my  mind  as  a  lamb 

^  De    Moribus   Ruthenorum,  Zur    Charakteristik  der   rtissischen 
Volksseele  von  Victor  Helm.  Theodor  Schiemann,  Stuttgart,  1892. 

84 


Germany  and  the  Boer  War 

between  wolves.  As  one  who  had  been  tutor  in 
the  Imperial  Family  without  degenerating  into  a 
sycophant,  in  an  official  position  a  professor  of 
history  in  the  Berlin  University,  and  yet  fearlessly 
outspoken  in  his  criticism  of  leanings  prevailing 
in  high  places — and  who  was  incapable  of  false- 
hood and  deceit  or  meanness — he  had  proved  his 
independence  of  character.  No  wonder  such  a  man 
was  scoffed  at  as  unpractical,  as  a  mere  child, 
etc.  A  man  incapable  of  falsehood,  servility,  or 
deceit,  a  gentleman,  a  child  indeed,  in  such  com- 
pany !  But  even  he,  I  fear,  has  not  been  immune 
against  the  influences  of  his  surroundings.  Having 
known  Delbriick  personally  for  over  twenty-five 
years,  I  cannot  otherwise  account  for  his  having 
allowed  himself  to  be  carried  away  during  the 
Boer  War  to  the  extent  of  declaring  in  the  North 
American  Review  that  the  German  Emperor 
would  only  * '  hold  back  the  Germans  as  long  as 
he  was  able"  from  taking  part  in  the  South 
African  War  on  the  side  of  the  Boers !  And  this 
although,  in  his  more  normal  frame  of  mind,  he 
had  openly  and  repeatedly  warned  his  countrymen 
that  if  Germany  were  to  attempt  to  play  the  part 
of  Napoleon  I.,  she  would  inevitably  rouse  united 
Europe  against  her  and  share  his  fate ! 

To-day  my  old  friend  figures  as  a  mile- 
stone on  the  road  Germany  has  traversed  since 
Bismarck's  death.  For  if  such  a  man  as  he  could 
declare  that  Germany  could  not  exist  without 
increased  facilities  for  her  trade,  and  shout  for 

8s 


Things  I  Remember 

more  markets,  though  fully  conscious  that  the 
whole  of  the  British  Empire  was  freely  open  to 
German  commerce  and  German  shipping — what 
was  to  be  expected  from  the  less  intelligent  and, 
above  all,  the  less  honest  elements  which  have 
contributed  to  bring  about  the  present  pande- 
monium ? 

On  my  return  to  London  from  Berhn  I  found 
the  Spanish- American  War  the  most  alluring 
topic  of  conversation  among  journalists,  while 
different  aspects  of  the  conflict  were  of  absorbing 
interest  to  specialists.  Naval  theories  were  being 
put  to  the  proof  after  a  long  period  in  which 
fighting-ships  had  been  developed  with  little  or  no 
practical  test  of  their  qualities.  Interest  in  naval 
questions  had  been  stimulated  by  the  writings  of 
Captain  Mahan,  to  whom  it  had  been  left  to 
demonstrate  on  theoretical  lines  the  enormous 
importance  of  sea-power.  The  war  had  shown 
the  naval  incompetence  of  Spain,  sadly  fallen 
from  the  days  when  her  sailors  were  able  to 
challenge  the  world.  But  the  very  weakness  of 
the  Spanish  fleet  in  the  actual  fighting  had  pre- 
vented a  solution  of  many  problems,  although  it 
had  clearly  shown  that  the  undergunned  ship  has 
practically  no  chance  whatever  against  a  vessel 
armed  with  heavier  artillery,  and  it  had  given  a 
new  importance  to  the  torpedo. 

Therefore  I  interested  myself  in  approaching 
some  British  naval  authorities  for  an  interpretation 
of  the  lessons  taught  by  the  fights  at  sea.     Some 

86 


British  Naval  Power 

of  these  are  interesting  even  to-day.  Lord  Charles 
Beresford  (now  Lord  Beresford)  showed,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  a  real  shrewdness  in  the 
capacity  of  a  prophet.  He  dwelt  particularly  on 
the  importance  of  the  torpedo : 

''The  one  thing  which  I  think  our  Govern- 
ment has  done  well  is  that  they  have  created  a 
regular  squadron  of  torpedo  destroyers.  For 
although  the  present  war  has  not  yet  afforded  us 
an  adequate  scope  for  judging  of  the  effect  of 
torpedoes — ^for  they  have  been  hardly  used  at  all 
— there  can  be  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  the 
most  recent  invention,  the  gyroscope,  has  rendered 
the  mobile  torpedo  a  hundred  times  more  for- 
midable than  before.  The  future  will  see  whole 
squadrons  of  torpedoes  fitted  with  this  ingenious 
mechanism  [the  gyroscope]  let  loose  upon  the 
enemy,  and  if  only  one  out  of  many  strikes  a  ship 
it  will  be  all  up  with  her.  Hence  the  growing 
importance  of  the  torpedo  and  per  contra  of  the 
torpedo  destroyer." 

The  late  Admiral  Close,  whom  I  also  con- 
sulted, dwelt  especially  upon  the  importance  of 
heavy  guns — thus  anticipating  the  great  change 
which  marked  the  Dreadnought  era.  "  Why,  the 
Americans  beat  us  at  sea  in  1812-13  because 
their  guns  w^ere  heavier  than  ours,"  he  said.  He 
pointed  out,  too,  that  the  Spaniards  had  not 
learned  the  lesson  that  all  wood  was  a  danger  to 
ships  of  war,  although  wood  had  been  discarded 
in  our  own  Navy.     Even  so,   one  may  add  in 

87 


Things  I  Remember 

parenthesis,  the  present  war  has  shown  that 
battleships  and  cruisers  still  remain  combustible 
when  exposed  to  the  terrific  temperatures  of  high 
explosives. 

More  interesting  than  the  naval  questions, 
however,  were  the  proposals  put  forward  for  a 
closer  political  union  between  Great  Britain  and 
the  United  States.  The  latter  emerged  from  the 
war  as  a  Colonial  Power,  with  new  responsibilities 
outside  its  own  immediate  boundaries  and  conse- 
quently new  questions  in  both  its  home  and  its 
foreign  politics.  The  movement  for  a  more 
definite  alliance  came  to  nothing  at  the  moment, 
but  it  enlisted  great  sympathy  in  England.  The 
late  Duke  of  Argyll,  then  Marquis  of  Lome,  and 
only  recently  returned  from  serving  as  Governor- 
General  of  Canada,  wrote  to  me : 

"  I  always  have  worked  for  a  thorough  under- 
standing with  the  United  States,  and  hope  to  do 
so  during  the  rest  of  my  days.  Great  common 
interests  unite  us  and  nothing  that  rises  above  the 
level  of  comparative  trifles  divides  us.  In  China, 
for  instance,  at  the  present  moment,  we  have 
vast  mutual  interests,  and  we  should  push  along 
together  there  and  elsewhere." 

As  might  have  been  expected,  the  notable 
divines  were  even  more  keenly  interested  than 
the  politicians.  Dr.  Creighton,  then  Bishop  of 
London,  whom  I  had  met  on  several  occasions, 
embodied  his  views  in  a  letter  which  betrayed 
foresight  as  well  as  high  aspirations.    He  said : 

88 


An  Unrealised  Ideal 

^'  The  future  will  not  be  so  much  occupied 
with  nations  as  with  the  civilising  ideas  which 
they  contribute  to  the  world's  progress.  The 
question  for  us  is :  What  will  be  the  future  of 
the  civilising  ideas  which  are  common  to  English- 
speaking  peoples?  Local  forms  and  modifications 
are  of  little  moment.  The  important  thing  is  the 
value  of  the  ideas  themselves.  England  and  the 
United  States  have  a  common  heritage  of  primary 
principles  which  mark  them  off  from  other  peoples. 
They  are,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  indissolubly  united. 
Proposals  of  closer  friendship  merely  recognise 
this  fact.  Two  peoples  can  help  one  another  to 
understand  better  the  principles  which  they  already 
possess  in  common,  and  apply  them  more  freely 
to  new  questions  as  they  arise. 

*'  Both  peoples  must  acquire  greater  sympathy, 
greater  versatility,  if  they  are  to  extend  their 
civilising  power.  These  are  quahties  which  they 
can  teach  one  another.  The  future  of  the  world 
depends  upon  good  understanding  between 
England  and  the  United  States.  If  they  cannot 
teach  one  another,  how  are  they  to  teach  other 
people  ? 

"  M.  London." 

That  most  eloquent  of  English  churchmen,  Dr. 
Boyd  Carpenter,  at  that  time  Bishop  of  Ripon, 
expressed  his  views  in  the  following  letter : 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  notice  all  the  symptoms  of 
a  better  understanding  between  the  United  States 

89 


Things  I  Remember 

of  America  and  this  country.  I  trust  the  cordial 
feehngs  which  now  exist  may  be  strengthened  and 
extended  as  the  years  move  on.  I  can  foresee 
much  and  lasting  good  from  such  a  friendship, 
and  believe  all  those  seeking  to  promote  it  are 
working  toward  an  end  which  will  bring  good  to 
mankind  and  to  all  who  are  engaged  in  this  work. 
I  woidd  say  '  Go  on,  in  the  name  of  the  brother- 
hood of  peace.' 

'^W.  B.  RiPON. 
"  The  Palace y  Ripon, 

"July  2Uh,  1898." 

Many  other  divines  helped  in  the  discussion, 
but,  alas !  their  views  are  of  little  significance 
to-day  and  are  certainly  not  worth  reproduction 
here. 

At  one  last  point  I  came  into  personal  touch 
with  the  war,  for  when  peace  was  finally  pro- 
claimed, after  negotiations  in  Paris,  I  was 
presented  with  a  box  of  the  cigars  distributed 
on  the  occasion — cigars  which  linger  in  my 
memory  as  the  best  that  I  have  smoked,  appro- 
priately enough,  as  the  war  had  decided  the 
future  ownership  of  the  most  important  tobacco- 
producing  islands  of  the  world. 


90 


CHAPTER    VIII 

Bismarck's  death 

In  July,  1898,  it  was  reported  that  Bismarck  was 
seriously  ill — he  was  then  in  his  84th  year — and 
as  several  previous  rumours  had  been  current, 
the  report  did  not  excite  so  much  attention  in 
journalistic  circles  as  might  otherwise  have  been 
the  case.  Surely  enough  there  came  news  of  a 
distinct  improvement  in  the  Prince's  condition, 
and  I  received  a  request  from  Mr.  Bennett  to 
proceed  to  Friedrichsruh  to  report,  as  it  was 
hoped,  on  Bismarck's  recovery. 

I  started  at  once,  only  to  find  on  my  arrival, 
on  the  morning  of  the  31st  of  July,  that  the  great 
statesman  had  passed  away  in  the  course  of  the 
preceding  night.  As  I  had  got  to  know  the  Prince 
as  a  private  individual  and  had  always  been  treated 
as  a  friend,  I  did  not  venture  to  trespass  on  the 
privacy  of  the  family  as  correspondent  of  a  news- 
paper on  the  look  out  for  news.  Thus  I  stayed 
at  the  little  railway  inn,  and  spent  the  day  in  the 
company  of  other  journalists  bent  on  the  same 
errand.  About  five  o'clock  next  morning  I  was 
awakened  by  a  voice  loudly  calling  my  name  out- 
side my  open  bedroom  window.    It  was  Professor 

9^ 


Things  I  Remember 

Schweninger,  Bismarck's  physician.  He  had  heard 
by  chance  of  my  arrival,  and  urged  me  to  get  up 
and  follow  him.  He  took  me  through  the  grounds 
of  the  Schloss,  past  the  cuirassiers  who  stood  with 
drawn  swords  as  a  guard  at  the  entrance  of  the 
house,  into  the  room  where  Bismarck  lay  dead  on 
his  bed.  Two  of  Bismarck's  gamekeepers,  in  grey 
uniform,  were  seated,  one  at  the  head  and  the 
other  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  In  the  course  of 
my  conversation  with  Schweninger,  dealing  with 
the  illness  and  the  last  hours  of  the  Prince,  he 
vented  his  indignation  over  what  he  termed  the 
''  vile  calumnies  "  that  had  been  heaped  upon  the 
head  of  his  great  patient  by  his  enemies  in  the 
German  Press.  It  had  been  stated  that  Bismarck 
had  become  a  morphinist  in  his  last  years,  that, 
too,  he  had  given  way  to  an  over-indulgence  in 
alcohol,  and  that  in  his  last  illness  he  had  really 
been  suffering  from  dropsy  as  a  consequence  of 
his  excesses.  Every  item,  Schweninger  assured 
me,  was  a  baseless  falsehood.  ''  I  am  glad  you 
have  come,"  he  continued,  ''  for  I  want  to  have  a 
reliable  independent  witness  in  case  their  vile 
calumnies  should  crop  up  again.  You  must  know 
that  if  the  Prince  had  suffered  from  dropsy  his 
appearance  would  be  very  different  from  what  it  is 
as  he  lies  there.  This  is  why  I  wanted  you  to  take 
a  last  look  at  him." 

Later  in  the  day  I  received  a  message  from 
Prince  Herbert  Bismarck,  asking  me  to  come  to 
the   house,    where   he   and   all   the  family   were 

Q2 


A  Rebuff  for  William  II 

assembled.  He  greeted  me  as  a  welcome  friend. 
I  spent  several  days  at  Friedrichsruh,  sending 
an  account  of  what  took  place  to  the  Herald. 
Bismarck's  son  absolutely  refused  to  admit  any- 
body but  the  servants  of  the  house  and  a  few  tried 
friends  of  the  family  to  take  a  last  farewell  look 
at  the  dead  statesman.  Of  the  latter  there  cannot 
be  more  than  half  a  dozen  alive  to-day  in  a  world 
which  for  nearly  a  generation  was  filled  with  his 
name. 

The  German  Emperor  was  on  his  way  back 
from  his  annual  holiday  in  Norway,  and  had 
announced  his  immediate  arrival  by  telegram, 
together  with  an  offer  of  a  State  funeral.  But 
the  family  abhorred  the  notion  of  State  funerals, 
a  subject  on  which  Bismarck  had  often  cracked  his 
jokes,  and  the  sons  refused  the  Emperor  WilHam's 
honour  point-blank  on  the  plea  that  their  father 
had  decided  that  his  place  of  interment  should  be 
where  he  had  spent  the  last  days  of  his  life.  An 
unpleasant  surprise  awaited  the  War  Lord  on 
his  arrival,  of  which  I  was  an  eye-witness;  for 
Bismarck's  sons,  as  well  as  his  son-in-law.  Count 
Rantzau,  received  the  Emperor  in  black  evening- 
dress,  whereas  the  etiquette  of  clothes — ^for  which 
there  has  never  been  a  more  meticulous  stickler 
than  His  Imperial  Majesty — would  have  required 
that  they  should  appear  in  their  respective  uni- 
forms. But  a  crowning  rebuff  was  in  store  for  the 
All  Highest  Monarch,  who  had  evidently  expected 
that  he  would  be  allowed  to  take  a  last  look  at  the 

93 


Things  I  Remember 

man  to  whom  he  owed  the  dazzling  position  of 
himself  and  his  family  in  the  world.  But  no,  this 
was  denied  him.  The  coffin  was  already  closed. 
That  such  a  slight  administered  to  an  all-powerful 
autocrat  should  have  excited  as  little  comment  as 
it  did,  seems  to  me  at  this  distance  of  time  to 
have  been  one  among  many  other  ominous  signs 
of  the  growing  worship  of  mere  worldly  glamour 
which  has  made  the  whole  world  more  or  less  an 
accomplice  in  the  vulgar  idolatry,  the  penalty 
for  which  the  living  are  now  paying  in  tears  and 
blood. 

Imbued  with  the  conviction  that  if  Bismarck 
had  lived  and  still  been  in  power  this  war  would 
not  only  never  have  taken  place,  but  would  never 
have  been  contemplated  nor  its  sinister  prepara- 
tions been  allowed  to  come  to  maturity,  I  make 
no  apology  for  reproducing  the  following  tribute 
which  I  wrote  for  Mr.  Garvin  on  the  occasion 
of  the  Prince's  centenary.  I  do  this  despite 
the  fact  that  we  are  now  at  war  with  the  country 
whose  greatness  he  had  created  and  whose 
moral  downfall  his  successors  have  iniquitously 
brought  about.  A  foreboding  of  such  an  end 
embittered  the  last  days  of  his  life,  as  it  did  those 
of  his  son  Herbert,  who  prematurely  followed  him 
to  the  grave : 

"I  made  Bismarck's  acquaintance  in  the 
spring  of  1891,  when  I  was  his  guest  for  several 
days  at  his  country  seat  in  the  village  of  Fried- 
richsruh.     I  visited  him  again  in  October  of  the 

94 


PRINCE   VON   BISMARCK 


Bismarck's  Personal  Charm 

same  year,  at  Varzin,  his  estate  in  Pomerania. 
In  the  following  January,  in  May,  and  again  in 
July,  I  was  his  guest,  and  subsequently  on  several 
occasions  down  to  his  death  in  July,  1898. 

'*  Macaulay  says  of  the  elder  Pitt  that  he  was 
one  of  the  few — perhaps  the  only  one — of  the 
really  great  men  of  history  who  was  not  simple 
and  genuine  in  his  manner.  He  had  something 
of  the  poseur,  the  histrionic  in  his  composition. 
Macaulay  evidently  intended  to  convey  that  true 
greatness  is  almost  invariably  allied  to  simplicity 
and  sincerity  in  private  life. 

''  Whatever  may  have  been  the  characteristics 
of  Bismarck  the  statesman — he  himself  repeatedly 
said  that  politics  spoilt  a  man's  character  and 
deplored  the  amount  of  human  misery  his  life's 
work  had  entailed — those  who  came  into  personal 
contact  with  him,  whatever  their  position  in  life, 
have  been  almost  unanimous  in  their  testimony  to 
the  charm  which  he  exercised  over  them.  His 
friend  Motley,  the  American  historian,  was  one 
of  the  earliest  to  enlighten  the  world  in  this 
respect;  but  the  late  Mr.  G.  W.  Smalley,  the 
distinguished  American  journalist,  is  a  more 
recent,  and  in  some  respects  a  more  unbiased, 
witness.  Mr.  Smalley  knew  almost  every  English 
and  American  statesman  of  his  time,  and  his 
whole  bent  of  mind  leant  in  favour  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  types  of  character  above  all  others.  And 
yet  he  paid  the  following  tribute  to  the  great 
German  :  '  Bismarck  had,  more  than  any  man  I 

95 


Things  I  Remember 

have  met,  the  manner  of  the  grand  seigneur,  in 
which  distinction  of  bearing  and  a  grave,  even 
gentle,  courtesy  went  together.' 

"  This  was  in  the  autumn  of  1866,  shortly 
after  the  battle  of  Sadowa.  But  Mr.  Smalley 
met  Bismarck  again  in  1893,  and  what  such  an 
acute  observer  said  twenty-two  years  ago  is  of 
portentous  significance  to-day  :  '  There  can  be  no 
question  of  the  change  that  is  going  on;  of  the 
decay  of  the  principles  and  methods  of  political 
action  under  which  Prussia  has  grown  to  be  what 
she  is,  and  by  virtue  of  which  the  German  Empire 
was  called  into  being.  No  question,  either,  that 
the  change  is  due  to  Prince  Bismarck's  fall,  to 
the  elimination  of  the  most  experienced  statesman 
in  Europe  from  kingly  and  Imperial  councils, 
and  to  the  unchecked  conduct  of  affairs  by  a 
young  Emperor  who  has  little  experience  and  in 
whom  the  want  of  real  political  capacity  is  coupled 
with  the  most  energetic  self-confidence  known  to 
mankind.'  .  .  . 

"  Pointing  to  the  Nemesis  which  ever  dogs 
ingratitude,  Mr.  Smalley  adds  :  '  The  most  cruel 
fate  one  can  wish  to  the  present  Emperor  is  that 
he  should  some  day  look  at  his  conduct  to  Prince 
Bismarck  in  the  light  of  what  Prince  Bismarck 
has  done  for  him  and  for  Germany.'  " 

When,  some  fourteen  years  ago,  I  published 
"  My  Personal  Reminiscences  of  Prince  Bis- 
marck "  a  London  review  expressed  the  opinion 
that  I  had  ingratiated  myself  into  his  favour  by 

96 


The  German  as  He  Is 

flattery.  I  should  say  that  few  men  have  been  so 
impervious  to  the  sycophant  as  Bismarck.  It  is 
true  that  an  essay  of  mine  deahng  with  his  career 
had  been  incorporated  in  the  Prussian  school- 
books;  but  he  himself  assured  me  that  what  had 
more  particularly  interested  him  in  my  book 
''Imperial  Germany"  was  the  chapter  entitled 
"The  Philistine,"  in  which,  in  order  to  balance 
my  appreciation  of  German  achievements,  I  had 
dilated  upon  some  of  the  more  uncongenial 
features  of  the  German  character. 

"I  cannot  make  out,"  Bismarck  said  to  me, 
"  how  you  could  possibly  have  gained  so  intimate 
a  knowledge  of  our  failings.  In  reading  your 
pages  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  you  might  have  lived 
in  my  immediate  surroundings  and  been  witness 
to  all  the  envy,  hatred  and  malice  to  which  I 
have  been  exposed  on  the  part  of  my  neighbours. 
They  could  never  forgive  me  for  what  they  termed 
'  having  got  on  in  the  world.'  " 

''  I  once  belonged  to  a  club,"  I  rephed,  "  the 
members  of  which  were  devoted  to  horse-racing. 
Now,  although  there  was  no  particular  reason  to 
credit  them  individually  with  more  than  average 
intelligence,  they  had  concentrated  their  minds  so 
intensively  on  everything  connected  with  horses 
that  they  attained  to  the  proficiency  of  horse- 
dealers  in  their  judgment  of  such  matters.  I  have 
always  had  a  similar  strong  leaning  for  the  study 
of  men." 

"  Then  all  I  can  say,"  Bismarck  replied,  with 

H  97 


Things  I  Remember 

a  wistful  smile,  ''is  that  you  are  a  good  horse- 
dealer  in  men!" 

Bismarck  used  to  illustrate  the  plight  in  which 
he  found  the  Prussian  monarchy  on  his  appoint- 
ment as  Prussian  Prime  Minister  by  a  droll  story. 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  found  Royalty  in  a  bad  way ; 
it  was  too  weak  for  what  is  required  under  our 
monarchical  conditions.  Now  and  then  I  fancy  I 
have  been  the  means  of  making  it  too  powerful, 
at  least  for  the  time  being.  Have  you  ever  heard 
the  story  of  the  rider  who  could  not  get  on  his 
horse,  and  called  upon  his  patron  saint  to  help 
him  into  the  saddle?" 

I  pleaded  ignorance. 

''Well,"  Bismarck  continued,  "the  patron 
saint  came  to  his  assistance  and  gave  him  such  a 
powerful  lift  up  that  he  vaulted  clean  over  the 
saddle  on  to  the  other  side  of  his  steed.  '  Gently, 
don't  be  so  violent!  '  cried  the  horseman.  That, 
you  see,  was  something  like  my  action  with  regard 
to  Royalty.  I  now  and  then  fancy  I  may  have 
been  too  violent ! ' ' 

Bismarck  had  a  strong  antipathy  for  the 
arrogance  of  the  military  element;  what  he  used 
to  call  the  "troupier."  But  far  more  sinister 
than  military  arrogance  in  his  eyes  was  the 
tendency  to  intrigue  of  ambitious  soldiers.  The 
late  Count  Waldersee,  Moltke's  successor,  em- 
bodied this ;  and  of  him  Bismarck  said  to  me  : 
"  He  cannot  live  outside  the  rays  of  the  sun  of 
Imperial  grace." 

98 


The  Boycotting  of  Bismarck 

During  one  of  my  visits  a  particularly  offensive 
article  appeared  in  a  German  newspaper  regarding 
Bismarck,  and  it  was  discussed  one  day  by  the 
family  in  my  presence.  "  If  I  have  ever  taken 
action  on  a  personal  defamation,"  Bismarck  said, 
*'  it  was  invariably  because  I  saw  myself  attacked 
in  my  official  capacity.  Never  have  I  taken  any 
notice  of  such  things  on  personal  grounds.  But 
as  this  goes  a  little  beyond  the  permissible,  I  will 
think  carefully  over  what  course  I  may  take." 

This  was  about  the  time  when  even  the 
French  were  surprised  at  the  German  official 
boycotting  of  Bismarck.  Paul  de  Cassagnac,  the 
fiery  Bonapartist  journalist,  wrote  in  his  news- 
paper, Le  Pays,  with  regard  to  this  very  matter : 
*'  Really  the  Germans  are  not  a  great  nation.  If 
we  had  had  such  a  man  in  France,  we  would  have 
built  him  a  temple  reaching  up  to  the  skies." 

In  spite  of  his  sensitive,  irritable  tempera- 
ment, Bismarck  had  a  dislike  for  extravagance  in 
language  and  action  :  true  to  Talleyrand's  dictum, 
"  Tout  ce  qui  est  exagere  est  insignifiant."  Even 
in  moments  of  extreme  tension  he  instinctively 
kept  himself  under  control.  Thus  when,  a  few 
days  after  the  battle  of  Gravelotte,  in  which 
his  son  Herbert  was  dangerously  wounded,  he 
received  a  letter  from  his  wife  urging  him  to 
destroy  the  French  with  fire  and  sword,  he  was 
annoyed,  and  turned  to  Count  Hatzfeldt,  who 
told  me  the  episode  many  years  afterwards,  say- 

99 


Things  I  Remember 

ing  :  "  My  wife  will  yet  end  by  making  me  do  the 
French  a  good  turn." 

The  shouting  applause  of  the  crowd  had  no 
charms  for  Bismarck.  He  used  to  say  that  if  he 
had  failed  they  would  have  crowded  to  see  him 
hanged.  And  yet  he  was  sensible  of  a  touch  of 
human  nature  in  its  humblest  representative.  He 
used  to  tell  me  that  the  Russian  peasant  was  often 
a  born  gentleman;  and  on  one  occasion  I  was 
present  at  Kissingen  when  he  entered  into  a 
friendly  conversation  with  a  Polish  Jew  rabbi, 
whose  demonstrative  salutation  had  impressed  him 
by  its  sincerity.  '*  It  is  a  high  honour  for  me  to 
drink  out  of  the  same  cup  with  a  brave  soldier," 
he  said  to  a  wounded  French  soldier  at  Grave- 
lotte,  as  he  bent  over  him,  handed  him  his 
drinking-flask,  and  emptied  it  after  him. 

I  should  like  to  protest  against  the  supposition 
that  Bismarck  had  ever  been  at  heart  an  enemy 
of  England  or  that  English  responsible  Ministers 
in  his  time  had  ever  considered  him  to  be  such. 
Bismarck  believed  that  the  interests  of  Germany 
and  England  need  never  collide.  Even  to-day  it 
may  not  be  supererogatory  to  repeat  the  assertion 
that  there  was  never  anything  in  Bismarck's  aims 
which  implied  a  serious  menace  to  British  interests. 
Many  passages  in  his  reminiscences  and  of  his 
recorded  conversations  support  this  interpretation, 
whilst  in  neither  is  there  anything  I  am  acquainted 
with  which  could  lend  countenance  to  the  con- 
trary  view.      I  have  recently   seen   a   statement 

lOO 


Bismarck  and  the  Jameson  Raid 

that  Bismarck's  diplomacy  in  connection  with  the 
acquisition  of  Germany's  African  Colonies  had  a 
deal  to  do  with  creating  a  strong  feeling  of 
antagonism  to  England  in  Germany,  and  I  can 
well  believe  it  to  be  the  case.  But  this  does  not 
imply  that  he  would  ever  have  sanctioned  its  going 
to  the  lengths  we  have  witnessed,  and  he  alone 
had  the  power  to  curb  its  extravagance. 

I  was  present  when  he  made,  like  many  others, 
some  comments  on  the  Jameson  Raid,  but  they 
were  not  based  on  petty  spite  or  enmity  to 
England;  whereas  he  certainly  would  never  have 
sanctioned  the  sending  of  the  outrageous  Kruger 
telegram  had  he  been  in  office. 

Bismarck  was  more  anxious  for  the  internal 
consolidation  than  for  the  external  expansion  of 
Germany.  He  did  not  believe  that  Germany 
could  not  prosper  without  a  great  Colonial 
Empire,  nor  that  a  fleet  rivalling  that  of  Great 
Britain  and  threatening  the  very  existence  of 
England,  was  necessary  for  the  protection  of 
Germany's  commerce,  which  had  the  free  run  of 
the  British  Empire.  He  was  quite  content  to  let 
France  and  Italy  colonise  North  Africa,  and  even 
encouraged  both  of  them  to  do  so. 

King  Edward,  I  know  on  unquestionable 
authority,  harboured  feelings  of  friendly  admira- 
tion for  Bismarck,  and  never,  down  to  the  very 
last,  let  his  birthday  pass  without  sending  him 
a  warm  congratulatory  telegram ;  and  the  same 
applies  to  the  Empress  Frederick.    When  per- 

xoi 


Things  I  Remember 

sonal  dissonances  between  England  and  Germany 
became  accentuated  after  Bismarck's  death,  King 
Edward  would  say  to  intimate  friends:  ''We 
didn't  mind  putting  up  with  this  or  that  from 
Bismarck,  but  we  will  not  take  it  from  his 
successors." 

King  Edward  also  had  a  friendly  appreciation 
for  Herbert  Bismarck,  in  spite  of  the  stormy 
incident  in  1898  mentioned  in  Prince  Hohenlohe's 
Memoirs.  I  possess  a  photograph  of  Herbert 
Bismarck  in  a  dragoon  uniform  which  he  had 
specially  taken  in  the  year  1892  at  the  wish  of 
the  then  Prince  of  Wales.  Both  Lord  Salisbury 
and  Lord  Rosebery  were  warm  admirers  of  Prince 
Bismarck ;  the  latter  even  stood  godfather  to 
Herbert  Bismarck's  son.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
is  not  out  of  place  to  put  on  record  that  no 
similar  personal  relationship  has  existed  since 
between  English  and  German  statesmen. 

As  a  conclusive  proof  of  Bismarck's  supreme 
wish  to  stand  well  with  England,  I  can  vouch 
for  the  following.  His  last  verbal  instructions  to 
German  diplomatic  representatives  abroad,  more 
particularly  to  the  Consuls  in  India  and  in  Egypt 
— where,  since  his  day,  German  intrigue  has  been 
rampant — often  terminated  in  the  words  :  "Do 
all  in  your  power  to  keep  up  good  relationship 
with  the  English.  You  need  not  even  use  a  secret 
cipher  in  cabling.  We  have  nothing  to  conceal 
from  the  English,  for  it  would  be  the  greatest 
possible   folly    for   us    to    antagonise    England." 


Moral  Capital 

Indeed,  there  can  scarcely  be  a  people  for  whose 
standards  of  life  Bismarck  felt  greater  respect  than 
the  English,  and  none  on  whose  friendship — not 
even  that  of  Russia,  to  whom,  after  all,  Germany- 
was  indebted  for  neutrality  during  the  wars  of 
1866  and  1870 — he  set  a  higher  value. 

Difficult  as  it  may  be  for  Englishmen  to 
recognise  to-day,  there  can  be  Httle  doubt  that, 
whatever  may  have  been  the  ruggedness  in  the 
form,  there  was  always  a  red  thread  of  sanity  and 
moderation  traceable  in  the  spirit  of  Bismarck's 
dealings  with  foreign  countries.  The  best  proof 
of  this  hes  in  the  confidence  which  he  enjoyed 
abroad,  which  even  extended  to  the  German 
Ambassadors  who  had  been  appointed  by  him. 
To-day  it  is  scarcely  remembered  that  whereas 
Bismarck's  dismissal  was  hailed  in  Germany  with 
a  feeling  of  relief,  it  was  a  source  of  anxiety 
among  Europe's  responsible  statesmen,  and  no- 
where more  so  than  in  France  and  England,  for 
he  enjoyed  the  fullest  confidence  among  men  of 
responsible  position  in  almost  every  country. 
The  amount  of  moral  capital  embodied  in  that 
simple  word  "  confidence  "  is  being  brought  home 
to  the  world  at  the  present  moment.  This  is  it 
which  has  been  lost  and  will  have  to  be  regained 
if  Germany  is  evet*  to  resume  the  position  she  held 
in  the  world  in  Bismarck's  time.  Let  the  German 
Press  rail  at  those  who  were  once  honoured  by 
Bismarck's  friendship,  and  who  now  deplore  the 
fate  which  has  overtaken  Germany  by  flouting  his 

103 


Things  I  Remember 

warnings.     But  what  would  he  himself  have  said 
had  he  Hved  to  see  his  life's  work  put  in  jeopardy  ! 

As  everything  authentic,  however  trifling, 
connected  with  this  historical  figure  is  likely  to 
remain  of  permanent  interest,  I  make  free  to 
deal  with  a  matter  concerning  which  some  curious 
misconceptions  still  exist :  Bismarck's  attitude 
towards  the  Press  and  joumahsts  generally.  If 
anybody  enjoyed  his  confidence  and  friendship, 
the  fact  of  his  being  a  journalist — or  for  the 
matter  of  that  a  tinker  or  a  tailor — did  not 
detract  from  his  regard.  Do  we  not  know  that 
a  President  of  the  United  States  had  been  a 
tailor,  and  used  to  boast  of  it :  "  When  I  was  a 
tailor  I  was  a  good  tailor  ".^ 

On  the  other  hand,  being  a  journalist  was  no 
passport  to  Bismarck's  favour  any  more  than 
being  a  Prince,  even  a  ruling  Prince.  He  would 
make  no  scruples  in  utilising  the  services  of  the 
most  obscure  scribe  to  further  political  interests, 
but  he  stopped  short  of  recognising  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  most  powerful  newspaper  of  the 
world  if  it  were  to  obtain  his  personal  good  will. 
One  of  Bismarck's  sincere  admirers  wrote  a  life 
of  the  Prince  which  was  boomed  in  England  and 
America  for  perhaps  more  than  it  was  worth,  yet 
the  journalist  author  was  never  able  to  obtain  a 
single  personal  interview  with  Bismarck,  either 
during  his  tenure  of  office  or  afterwards,  in  the 
course  of  years  of  untiring  effort  in  that  direction. 

104 


Bismarck  and  the  Hyphenates 

Bismarck's  estimate  of  his  own  journalistic 
minions  may  be  gleaned  from  a  remark  which  he 
made  to  me  at  Kissingen  in  July  of  1892  con- 
cerning the  official  Press  of  Berlin  :  "  These  dogs 
whom  I  have  taught  to  bark  think  they  can 
intimidate  me." 

After  Bismarck's  retirement  he  received  many 
journalists,  though  not  without  distinct  discrimina- 
tion; but  there  were  days  on  which  his  doors 
were  closed  to  the  Press.  On  his  78th  birth- 
day (1893)  I  was  present  when  the  representa- 
tive of  the  New  York  Herald  was  even  refused 
admittance  to  the  house,  although  he  had  brought 
a  recommendation  direct  from  Mr.  James  Gordon 
Bennett  and  pleaded  that  the  German- Americans 
— of  whom  we  have  heard  so  much  of  late  as 
the  Hyphenates — were  anxious  to  obtain  a  first- 
hand account  of  the  birthday  festivities.  Herbert 
Bismarck  turned  to  me  and  said  :  "  As  for  the 
German- Americans,  let  them  stay  where  they 
are.  They  have  chosen  the  country  to  w^hich 
they  belong.  My  father  does  not  care  for  their 
belated  devotion."  Bismarck  scorned  that  per- 
sonal adulation  which  has  become  a  sure  passport 
to  favour  in  high  places  since  his  day. 

One  little  incident  at  the  festivities  which  took 
place  on  the  occasion  of  his  80th  birthday  seems 
to  fall  within  the  scope  of  the  present  pages.  I 
had  undertaken  to  send  an  account  of  the  pro- 
ceedings to  the  New  York  Herald,  and  this  kept 
me  to  and  fro  between  the  telegraph  station  and 

105 


Things  I  Remember 

the  Schloss  during  the  whole  day.  I  was  again 
engaged  at  the  telegraph  wires  at  dinner  time. 
When  I  put  in  my  belated  appearance  in  the 
drawing-room,  I  was  agreeably  surprised  to  find 
that  a  set  meal  had  been  specially  reserved  for 
me  in  the  dining-room,  after  which  I  spent  one 
of  the  many  delightful  evenings  I  was  privileged 
to  pass  in  the  company  of  the  Bismarck  family. 
I  may  be  permitted  here  one  personal  note 
which  has  a  direct  bearing  on  my  relations  with 
Bismarck  and  his  family.  Immediately  after  the 
outbreak  of  the  present  war  I  had  contributed  an 
article  to  the  Fortnightly  Review  dealing  with 
the  situation,  in  which  I  drew  a  parallel  with  the 
American  War  of  Secession,  and  predicted  that, 
as  in  that  case,  it  would  probably  be  a  long 
struggle  a  outrance.  I  was  bitterly  attacked  in 
various  German  newspapers,  among  others  in  an 
important  German  organ  which,  in  days  of  sanity, 
had  been  remarkable  for  the  reliability  of  its 
news  and  the  general  fairness  of  its  comment. 
It  was  stated  that,  after  posing  for  many  years 
as  a  friend  of  Germany,  and  one  of  Bismarck's  in 
particular,  I  had  changed  my  views  when  personal 
gain  of  a  base  pecuniary  nature  from  adherence 
to  them  was  no  longer  to  be  reaped.  I  have 
adequately  explained  elsewhere  the  alteration  in 
my  estimate  of  Germany.  The  Germany  of  my 
youth  had  passed  through  an  evolution.  The  men 
who  then  guided  its  destinies  were  those  who  had 
raised  it  to  power  in  Europe.    They  were  marked 

1 06 


The  Over-haste  of  Ambition 

by  great  simplicity  of  character  and  by  no  ignoble 
ambition.  But  for  the  most  part  they  were  now 
old  men,  and  as  they  died  out  new  ideals  began 
to  assert  themselves  among  the  German  people, 
new  leaders  arose,  new  teachers  filled  the  colleges, 
the  pulpits,  and  the  Press.  Almost  imperceptibly 
the  character  of  a  people  was  changed,  and  Ger- 
many was  made  ripe  for  an  aggressive  challenge 
to  the  world. 

Russia  adhered  through  two  centuries  to  what 
is  believed  to  have  been  Peter  the  Great's  last 
injunction  left  for  her  future  guidance.  Germany 
could  not  await  Bismarck's  death  before  her  ruler 
openly  disregarded  the  warnings  contained  in  his 
final  ''Reflections."  Many  a  time  I  have  heard 
Herbert  Bismarck  declare  in  his  father's  presence 
that  Germany,  at  last  united,  was  now  what  he 
termed  a  "  saturated  "  country;  that  is  to  say,  a 
country  complete  in  itself,  whose  principal  aim 
was  to  weld  together  and  hold  what  had  been 
won,  not  to  jeopardise  her  existence  by  playing  a 
"  brilliant  second  "  to  Austria's  ambitions  towards 
the  iEgean,  let  alone  to  challenge  Great  Britain's 
very  existence  on  the  sea.  The  former  danger  was 
lucidly  and  repeatedly  set  forth  in  Bismarck's 
"  Reflections,"  only  to  be  disregarded.  Of  almost 
equal  significance  in  view  of  the  present  war  is  the 
well  authenticated  fact  that  Bismarck  vehemently 
repudiated  the  thought  of  ever  waging,  what  he 
termed,  a  preventive  war — the  responsibility  for 
which,  he  declared,  he  could  never  accept  towards 

107 


Things  I  Remember 

his  God.  And  yet  to  have  done  this  is  the  only 
justification  which  Germany  has  been  able  to  bring 
for  having  deluged  the  world  in  blood. 

They  slander  Bismarck's  memory  as  a  states- 
man who  would  associate  him  with  the  recent 
developments  of  policy  and  character  in  the 
German  Empire.  They  libel  him  as  a  man  even 
more  when  they  suggest  that  he  would  have 
expected  a  friend  who  had  taken  and  eaten  his 
salt  and  enjoyed  his  confidence  to  be  untrue  to 
himself  and  to  be  false  to  his  own  country.  I  am 
an  Englishman,  and  Prince  Bismarck  would  have 
been  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  expect  that  a 
citizen  of  another  country  could  sacrifice  a  shade 
of  his  devotion  to  his  native  land  because  he  had 
been  honoured  in  Germany.  The  mere  suspicion 
that  a  man  was  capable  of  such  apostasy  would 
have  closed  at  once  his  door  and  his  heart  to  such 
a  being.  This  is  my  answer  to  those  anonymous 
libellers  of  the  German  Press,  and  at  that  I  leave 
the  subject. 

If  there  was  one  man  more  than  another  in 
Germany  who  would  have  had  contempt  for  those 
who  turned  against  their  own  country  in  its  peril 
it  was  Bismarck.  He  would  never  have  forgiven 
that  neurasthenic  bookworm,  Houston  Chamber- 
lain, for  flattering  the  diseased  vanity  of  the 
Germans,  besides  reviling  and  slandering  the 
country  of  his  birth  to  her  enemies.  Bismarck's 
sense  of  humour  and  sanity  would  have  made 
him  reject  the  yeasty,  fermented  productions  of 

io8 


The  Man  who  Duped  Bismarck 

this  super-excitable  personage.  How  Bismarck 
was  capable  of  respecting  an  enemy,  even  when 
that  enemy  had  bested  him,  is  conclusively  shown 
in  the  case  of  Count  d'Herisson,  who  by  a  ruse 
deceived  Bismarck  over  the  surrender  of  the 
French  flags  at  the  capitulation  of  Paris.  When 
Count  d'Herisson,  many  years  afterwards,  pub- 
lished his  version  of  the  incident,  doubts  were 
expressed  in  the  German  Press  of  the  truth  of 
the  story,  according  to  which  Bismarck  had  been 
grossly  duped  by  the  Count.  Bismarck  not  only 
went  out  of  his  way  to  confirm  Count  d'Herisson's 
version,  but  did  so  in  a  manner  which  implied 
that  he  respected  the  French  officer  as  a  patriot 
for  his  exploit  and  gave  him  full  credit  for  its 
success. 


109 


CHAPTER   IX 

AFTER   LEAVING   THE    '' HERALD  " 

In  1898  a  piece  of  work  I  was  doing  in  Scotland 
proved  to  be  my  last  job  for  the  Herald — at  least, 
for  several  years  to  come.  Mr.  Bennett  had  placed 
before  me  the  alternative  of  either  transferring 
my  penates  to  Berlin,  and  becoming  the  regular 
correspondent  of  the  Herald  there,  or  retiring 
from  the  paper  altogether,  unless  I  cared  to  con- 
tinue as  occasional  contributor.  He  said  that  the 
Herald  had  many  thousands  of  German  readers  in 
America.  They  knew  that  I  had  been  a  personal 
friend  of  Prince  Bismarck,  and  thus  my  contri- 
butions on  German  affairs  would  possess  an  assured 
interest  for  them ;  whereas,  in  order  to  continue 
to  represent  the  Herald  in  London,  I  should  be 
called  upon  to  write  a  weekly  so-called  "  London 
Letter  "  for  the  New  York  paper — a  task  with 
which,  as  I  had  never  been  in  America,  I  was 
scarcely  qualified  to  deal  in  the  spirit  required. 

The  proposal  did  not  commend  itself  to  me, 
so  I  reluctantly  laid  down  the  lute  upon  which, 
as  a  humble  performer  in  the  great  orchestra  of 
world  pubHcity,  I  had  piped  lustily  for  several 
years.     For  there  had  been  a  certain  fascination 

IIO 


The  Glamour  of  the  Pen 

in  the  knowledge  that  the  words  I  was  putting 
on  the  wires  would  perhaps  be  read  by  many 
thousands  of  readers  at  breakfast  tables  the  other 
side  of  the  world.  It  was  the  exhilarating  feeling 
of  taking  an  active  part  in  the  life  of  one's  time, 
even  though  only  as  a  diligent  wielder  of  the  pen, 
and  it  contrasted  sharply  with  the  sudden  change 
of  being  thrown  back  into  obscurity,  an  inarticulate 
cipher  in  the  crowd. 

Next  to  statesmanship,  law  and  medicine, 
journalism  is  probably  the  walk  of  life  which 
brings  us  into  closest  contact  with  the  frailties 
clinging  to  a  gigantic  social  organism  bent  on  the 
gratification  of  vanity  and  ambition.  Many  are 
the  opportunities  afforded  to  the  journalist  on  the 
staff  of  a  great  newspaper  to  probe  the  various 
make-believes  that  lie  hidden  beneath  the  surface 
of  our  society.  Thus  I  was  to  some  extent  able  to 
understand  the  contempt  which  a  Prime  Minister 
is  said  to  feel  for  human  nature  after  he  has  left 
the  helm  and  enjoys  the  leisure  to  survey  and 
review  his  experiences  a  froid.  Curiously  enough 
a  final  incident  connected  with  my  work  on  the 
Herald  was  calculated  to  emphasise  this  feeUng. 

One  morning  I  received  a  telegram  urging  me 
to  call  immediately  at  a  house  in  Belgravia  on  a 
most  urgent  matter.  On  arrival  I  was  shown  into 
the  dining-room,  of  which  the  blinds  were  drawn, 
although  it  was  broad  daylight.  After  being  kept 
waiting  some  time  a  middle-aged  lady  in  deep 
mourning   entered   the   room,   and   without   any 

III 


Things  I  Remember 

further  preamble  informed  me  that  she  had  just 
lost  her  grandmother.  Her  own  mother  was  pros- 
trated with  grief  and  thus  unable  to  see  me,  but 
she  wished  to  convey  this  inteUigence  to  the  New 
York  Herald.  I  was  about  to  take  my  leave  when 
the  lady  asked  me  to  wait  a  few  moments,  and 
left  the  room.  On  her  return  she  held  up  a  scrap- 
book  and  told  me  that  it  was  her  mother's  most 
precious  possession,  and  as  she  was  unable  to  see 
me  herself  owning  to  her  being  prostrated  with 
grief,  she  had  decided  to  entrust  it  to  my  care,  as 
she  thought  it  might  be  of  use  in  communicating 
with  the  Herald;  but  I  was  to  be  sure  to  return 
it  safely,  as  it  was  of  priceless  value  to  her.  I 
replied  that  under  the  circumstances  I  would 
rather  not  run  any  risks  by  taking  it,  the  less  so 
as  I  felt  sure  I  could  carry  out  her  mother's  wishes 
without  any  further  information.  Here  the  lady 
again  asked  me  to  excuse  her,  and  once  more  left 
the  room.  On  her  return  she  informed  me  that 
although  her  mother  was  still  prostrated  with 
grief,  she  had,  after  all,  decided  to  make  an  effort 
to  see  me,  if  I  would  follow  her.  She  led  me  into 
another  dark  room,  with  curtains  drawn  over  the 
windows,  in  w^hich  an  old  and  enamelled  woman 
lay  stretched  on  the  sofa.  She  apologised  for 
receiving  me  thus,  and  again  protested  that  she 
was  "  prostrated  with  grief,"  a  bit  of  information 
which  she  wanted  me  to  convey  to  the  Herald. 

On  my    way   home    I    cast    a   glance   at   the 
contents  of  the  queer  volume  entrusted  to  my 

112 


Hiding  from  Mr,  Bennett 

care.  It  was  an  old,  soiled  scrapbook,  and  con- 
tained a  number  of  discoloured  newspaper  cuttings 
recording  the  social  triumphs  during  the  long  life 
of  the  lady  whom  I  had  just  left. 

My  personal  connections  had  been  bound  up 
for  many  years  with  the  Continent,  and  I  was 
little  more  than  a  stranger  in  the  country  of  my 
birth,  where  journalism  had  suddenly  lifted  me  up 
into  prominence;  whereas  abroad,  where  I  had 
made  a  name  as  a  writer  of  serious  books  and  had 
enjoyed  the  friendship  of  a  number  of  eminent 
men,  I  had  somewhat  lost  caste  by  descending  to 
the  status  of  a  ''  reporter  "  of  an  American  paper. 

The  sense  of  pleasure  in  again  feeling  one's 
own  personality,  and  in  no  longer  being  a  unit  in 
the  vast  machine  which  informs  and  guides  public 
opinion,  was  not  unmixed  with  some  feeling  of 
freedom  from  the  necessity  of  doing  everything 
at  high  pressure.  The  wear  of  the  life  of  the 
journalist  will  be  understood  from  the  following 
anecdote  : 

One  of  the  big  guns  of  the  Herald  came 
to  see  me  in  London  on  his  way  to  New  York. 
"I  am  off  to  Ireland  for  a  few  days,"  he  said. 
''What  makes  you  dart  off  there?"  I  asked. 
"  Oh,"  he  repUed,  "  I  want  to  have  a  few  days  of 
unfettered  freedom  away  beyond  the  reach  of  a 
cable  from  Mr.  Bennett  before  I  start  for  America. 
You  have  no  idea  of  the  nervous  strain  of  living  at 
one  end  of  a  telegraph  wire  with  Mr.  Bennett  at 
the  other;  for  in  New  York  there  is  a  telephone 

I  113 


Things  I  Remember 

at  my  very  bedside.     In  Ireland  he  will  not  be 

able  to  reach  me,  as  he  does  not  know  my  address." 

The  hand  of  Dr.  Hepworth,  my  companion  in 

Armenia,  would  shake  when  opening  a  telegram 

from  the  chief. 

Thus  there  were  compensations  in  leaving  the 

Herald.     I  had  regained  my  freedom,  though  it 

meant  a  fresh  start  in  life  in  middle  age.     I  was 

now   once   more   in   the   self-reliant   position    so 

graphically  set  forth  in  Moliere's  "  Misanthrope  " 

where  Alceste  gives  his  reasons  for  declining  a  post 

at  Court : 

**  On  n'a  point  d  souffrir  mille  rebuts  cruels, 
On  n'a  point  d  louer  les  vers  de  messieurs  tels, 
A  donner  de  Vencens  a  madame  une  telle, 
Et  de  nos  francs  marquis  essuyer  la  cervelle." 

At  least,  I  was  no  longer  obliged  to  seek  inter- 
views and  intercourse  with  highly  placed  officials 
to  the  neglect  of  those  whose  company  I  might 
have  preferred.  Some  years  afterwards,  on  a 
private  visit  to  Constantinople,  I  met  the  German 
Ambassador,  the  late  Baron  Marschall  von  Bieber- 
stein,  at  the  Palace,  and  he  asked  me  why  I  had 
not  called  upon  him.  I  replied  that  I  had  so 
often  been  obliged  to  intrude  upon  ambassadors 
as  correspondent  of  the  New  York  Herald  that  I 
was  thankful  to  be  able  to  leave  them  alone  now 
that  I  was  again  my  own  master. 

Talking  over  my  having  left  the  Herald  one 
day  with  that  genial  American  journalist,  the  late 
Mr.   Julian  Ralph,  he   said  to  me  :    "  My  dear 

114 


An  Unfulfilled  Prophecy 

Whitman,  do  not  be  under  any  illusion ;  you  have 
been  guilty  of  the  most  heinous  of  crimes.  The 
penalty  in  your  case  is  the  severance  of  your  con- 
nection with  the  Herald.  You  were  dealing  with 
an  autocrat  who  had  set  his  heart  on  sending  you 
to  Berlin,  and  by  your  refusal  to  go  there  you 
have  reminded  him  that  he  is  mortal  and  not 
omnipotent.  For  this  offence  there  can  be  no 
condonation  or  forgiveness.  It  is  a  sevej'ance  for 
ever."  I  am  thankful  to  say  that  this  distressing 
forecast  did  not  prove  to  be  correct,  as  will  be 
apparent  later  on.  Indeed,  so  recently  as  in 
April,  1916,  I  received  a  most  courteously 
worded  cable  from  Mr.  Bennett,  asking  me 
whether  I  would  be  willing  to  go  to  Ireland 
to  deal  with  the  situation  there.  Nor  did  my 
personal  relations  with  him  suffer  to  any  great 
extent,  for  he  has  sent  me  the  Paris  Herald  every 
day  down  to  this  very  morning.  Once  when  the 
paper  iieased  coming,  and  I  wrote  drawing  his 
attention  to  the  deprivation  involved  in  the  sudden 
break  in  what  had  become  a  congenial  habit  of 
reading  the  paper,  he  replied  most  graciously 
explaining  that  it  was  all  due  to  a  mistake  which 
should  not  occur  again. 

During  the  following  years  I  devoted  myself 
to  authorship,  besides  now  and  then  contributing 
to  English,  American  and  German  magazines. 
On  several  occasions  I  also  acted  as  intermediary 
between  distinguished  German  writers  and  English 
and  American  magazines,   an  activity  which,  in 

115 


Things  I  Remember 

view  of  recent  developments,  I  can  only  look  back 
upon  with  mixed  feelings.  Among  these  were 
the  military  writer,  Fritz  Honig,  whose  books,  I 
understand,  are  still  accepted  as  works  of  authority 
among  English  military  writers ;  Professor  Adolph 
Wagner,  lecturer  on  Political  Economy  at  Berlin 
University,  who  has  since  become  a  bitter  Anglo- 
phobe ;  and  my  friend  Professor  Hans  Delbriick ; 
but  most  distinguished  of  all,  Theodor  Mommsen, 
who  had  always  refused  to  write  for  any  English 
or  American  periodical,  and  in  acceding  to  my 
request  in  this  instance  declined  all  remunera- 
tion. I  am  happy  to  say  that  I  was  also 
instrumental  on  a  few  other  occasions  in  securing 
recognition  for  English  writers  in  Germany. 

From  my  boyhood  upward  I  had  been  in 
touch  with  Continental  intellectual  life,  and  with 
an  inherited  interest  in  European  history  I  had 
always  deplored  the  ignorance  prevailing  among 
the  British  public  with  regard  to  German  history 
and  the  more  serious  German  historical  writers. 
I  approached  the  publishing  Press  and  suggested 
translations  of  the  more  solid  works  of  writers 
such  as  Treitschke,  Sybel,  Gustav  Freytag,  and 
Johannes  Scherr's  works — books  which  are  full  of 
interesting  instructive  and  historical  matter — but 
only  to  meet  with  refusals.  This,  as  I  was  destined 
to  find  out,  was  not  due  to  any  lack  of  enterprise 
on  the  part  of  the  London  publishing  world,  but 
to  the  hopeless  lack  of  interest  of  the  British  public 
in  any  work  which  was  not  by  an  English  author 

ii6 


The  Penalty  of  Apathy 

of  established  reputation  and  was  not  boomed  as 
such  for  all  it  was  worth.  Thus  it  was  the  authority 
and  not  the  subject  itself  which  interested  and 
ensured  recognition.  When  I  think  of  the  tons 
of  German  stuff  of  overrated,  ephemeral,  or  anti- 
quated character  which  have  been  foisted  on  to 
the  English  public  in  editions  of  thousands  since 
the  beginning  of  the  war,  I  can  only  marvel  at  a 
previous  indifference  with  regard  to  matters  the 
value  of  a  close  study  of  which  has  now  been 
brought  home  to  us  with  an  eloquence  that  refuses 
denial,  by  that  most  expensive  of  all  teachers — 
bitter  experience. 

Thrown  back  upon  my  own  experiences  of  life, 
I  published  my  personal  reminiscences  of  Prince 
Bismarck,  which  appeared  simultaneously  in  New 
York,  London,  and  in  a  German  translation. 
With  this  exception  my  efforts  were  directed 
towards  bringing  translations  of  recognised  con- 
temporary German  authors  to  the  ken  of  English 
and  American  readers.  Thus  I  was  instrumental 
in  the  issue  of  an  English  translation  of  the 
"  Reminiscences  of  the  late  King  of  Roumania," 
the  late  Count  Yorck  von  Wartenburg's  work 
on  Napoleon,  General  Verdy  du  Vernois'  "  With 
the  Royal  Headquarters,  1870  to  '71,"  and  a 
volume  of  Heinrich  von  Poschinger's  "  Life  of 
the  Emperor  Frederick,"  as  well  as  a  volume  of 
the  same  compiler's  "Bismarck's  Table  Talk." 

With  the  exception  of  my  "Reminiscences 
of,  Prince  Bismarck  "   I  do  not  remember  that 

117 


Things  I  Remember 

a  single  one  of  the  above  brought  any  adequate 
return  to  its  publisher.  But  if  the  pecuniary 
results  of  the  King  of  Roumania's  Reminiscences 
were  meagre — a  book  of  the  highest  political 
authority,  which  ought  to  be  in  the  hands  of 
every  student  of  Continental  history  of  the  last 
fifty  years  ^ — it  had  at  least  the  result  of  gain- 
ing for  me  the  personal  friendship  of  the  late 
King  and  Queen  of  Roumania,  which  I  retained 
down  to  their  deaths.  I  have  dealt  fully  with 
this  most  gratifying  experience  in  my  ''  German 
Memories,"  a  chapter  of  which  is  devoted  to  my 
relations  with  the  late  King  Carol  and  his  family. 
If  I  revert  to  the  subject  on  this  occasion  it  is 
because  among  the  mementoes  of  this  connection 
are  two  signed  photographs,  one  of  herself  pre- 
sented to  me  by  the  Queen  of  Roumania,  and 
one  of  her  niece,  the  Duchesse  de  Vendome,  the 
sister  of  the  heroic  King  of  the  Belgians,  given  me 
by  her  husband,  both  of  which  are  reproduced  in 
facsimile  in  the  present  volume. 

My  acquaintance  with  the  Queen  of  Roumania 
— by  whom  I  mean  *'  Carmen  Sylva,"  of  course — 
resulted  in  a  correspondence  which  continued  with 
interruptions  through  a  number  of  years,  and  out 
of  which  I  have  selected  the  following  letter  as 
typical  of  the  tone  and  subject-matter  of  Her 
Majesty's  communications. 

^  The  only  English  diplomatist  I  ever  met  who  told  me  that  he  had 
read  it  was  the  late  Sir  Philip  O'Conor,  British  Ambassador  at 
Constantinople. 

ii8 


^    2 


.'■"z- "i^'j.z.^'^xs,.-' :  -.  ■' 


»» 


A  Letter  from  "Carmen  Sylva 

''  SiNAiA,  October  21«t,  1899. 

'*  Here  is  my  little  story.  If  you  think  it 
trop  pen  de  chose  for  so  large  a  public,  I'll  write 
another.  I've  got  many  more  in  my  head,  and  I 
hope  to  gain  back  the  easy,  joyful  working  I  was 
always  accustomed  to  before  too  many  troubles 
set  in  and  took  a  great  deal  of  self-confidence  and 
invention  out  of  me.  The  Muse  is  a  very  touchy 
lady,  and  won't  bear  a  too  great  measure  of  ill- 
treatment.  I  should  have  sent  this  MS.  much 
sooner  but  for  my  illness  and  the  terrible  anxiety 
for  our  little  boy,^  who  has  been  at  death's  door 
with  the  typhus  fever,  and  for  whom  we  can  only 
be  free  from  anxiety  when  the  fever  really  goes 
down.  Please  be  quite  honest  if  you  think  my 
tale  not  worth  while,  but  the  authenticity  of  it 
may  make  it  more  interesting  than  literary. 

"  The  typewriter  makes  it  possible  to  write  in 
bed,  whereto  I  am  condemned  for  several  weeks 
more.  Only  I'm  afraid  there  are  many  more 
faults,  and  the  more  I  get  excited  over  my  story 
the  worse  I  write.  So  I  can't  send  off  my  story 
before  to-morrow,  as  there  are  too  many  faults. 
I  thought  a  moment  of  wTiting  it  in  English,  to 
save  you  trouble,  but  I  am  afraid  the  correcting 
would  be  worse  trouble  to  you  than  translating. 

''  One  can  only  write  well  in  one's  owoi 
language,  and  more  especially  when  your  heart  is 
full  of  a  matter.  These,  my  war  reminiscences, 
move  me  deeply  whenever  I  relate  them ;  they 

*  Now  Crown  Prince  of  Roumania. 
119 


Things  I  Remember 

belong  to  the  most  dramatic  part  of  my  life,  which 
has  ever  been  very  stormy  from  my  earliest  child- 
hood upward.  I  read  the  article  this  morning, 
after  I  had  finished  it,  to  some  of  my  guests,  and 
they  seemed  satisfied  and  very  much  moved. 

"I  do  so  wish  I  might  show  you  Sinaia,  but 
at  a  brighter  moment,  when  not  the  whole  house 
is  a  hospital.  Even  Sinaia  can  be  melancholy  then. 
The  King's  mother  at  death's  door,  too !  Au 
re  voir !    And  write  me  how  you  like  it. 

"Elisabeth. 

"  P.S. — I  am  all  the  time  afraid  my  work  will 
not  answer,  and  therefore  I  have  begun  another 
story  directly,  so  that  you  may  choose." 

It  afforded  Her  Majesty  pleasure  to  see  her 
work  reproduced  in  the  English  language  for 
English  readers,  and  various  were  my  efforts  in 
this  direction  to  gratify  her,  the  pecuniary  results 
of  which  she  would  devote  to  one  or  other  of  her 
many  charitable  institutions.  She  would  tell  h^ 
friends  that  she  could,  at  a  pinch,  dispense  with 
Queenship  and  earn  her  own  living  by  her  pen. 
The  most  successful  of  my  efforts  on  her  behalf 
was  the  rendering  of  a  most  striking  poem  on 
"  Westminster  Abbey,"  which  I  translated  into 
English  and  which  was  published  in  the  Nineteenth 
Century  of  April,  1900,  over  the  signature  of 
Mr.  Arthur  Waugh,  whose  assistance  I  had  sought 
in  turning  it  into  faultless  EngUsh  verse.  He  had 
improved  my  version  to  such  an  extent  that  I 

I20 


The  Kaiser  is  "Good  Copy" 

thought  it  more  effective  than  the  Queen's 
original  German.  Thus  I  did  not  consider  myself 
entitled  to  take  credit  for  the  translation. 

Although  my  interests  in  life  were  strenuous 
and  various,  the  fascination  of  daily  journalism, 
once  tasted,  was  not  so  easily  to  be  shaken  off, 
even  when  it  had  ceased  to  be  a  regular  source 
of  income,  and  this  although,  as  •  the  historian 
James  A.  Froude  had  warned  me  years  previously, 
it  is  a  mill  which  grinds  the  strongest  talent  to 
pow^der.  The  old  cab-horse  which  once  bore  a 
soldier  rears  up  between  the  shafts  at  the  sound 
of  a  passing  band.  So,  also,  after  quitting  the 
service  of  the  New  York  Herald^  I  have  still  kept 
in  touch  with  daily  journalism  down  to  the  present 
day.  More  particularly  the  ever-recurring  evidence 
of  the  extraordinary  prestige  which  that  spoilt 
child  of  journalism,  "the  Potsdam  Prattler," 
enjoyed  in  the  eyes  of  my  English  confreres  often 
filled  me  with  wonder  and  amusement.  When  I 
would  remonstrate  with  my  journalistic  friends  and 
tell  them  that  by  dealing  so  copiously  with  the 
German  Emperor  they  were  only  encouraging  his 
exuberant  vanity — for  I  knew  for  a  fact  that  he 
made  a  point  of  reading  every  sycophantic  refer- 
ence to  himself  in  the  English  Press — they  would 
reply  :  "  He  is  such  good  copy." 

On  the  occasion  of  the  succession  to  the 
Principality  of  Lippe-Detmold  (1904),  when  the 
German  Emperor  opposed  the  election  of  the 
present  reigning  Prince  on  the  plea  of  his  ineligi- 

121 


Things  I  Remember 

bility,  owing  to  his  *' inadequacy  "  of  birth — his 
mother  or  grandmother  not  having  possessed  the 
necessary  quarterings — a  London  paper  gave  its 
opinion  that  the  Emperor's  "iron  heel"  would 
crush  the  Lilliput  Count — ^for  the  Prince  was  only 
a  titular  Count  prior  to  his  accession.  I  pointed 
out  that  not  the  will  of  the  Emperor  but  the  law 
of  the  land  would  decide  the  matter,  which,  indeed, 
it  subsequently  did;  for  the  case  came  before  the 
courts  and  was  ultimately  decided  in  the  present 
occupant's  favour  by  the  King  of  Saxony,  who  was 
appointed  arbitrator. 

The  following  autograph  letters  were  addressed 
to  me  by  the  Prince  in  connection  with  the  matter  : 

''  The  Palace,  Detmold, 

"December  27th,  1904. 
"Honoured  Mr.  Sidney  Whitman, — I  send 
you  my  whole-hearted  thanks  for  the  newspaper 
cutting,  as  well  as  for  the  sympathy  which  you 
have  so  kindly  extended  to  me  during  the  recent 
months  in  all  the  proceedings  which  have  affected 
me  and  my  family  in  this  most  anxious  (Schwer- 
bewegten  Zeit)  period,  and  remain  with  friendly 
greetings. — Yours  sincerely  obhged, 

"  Leopold  Count,  Regent  of  Lippe." 

More  than  a  year  afterwards,  when  the  case 
had  been  decided  against  the  Emperor's  objections 
in  the  Count's  favour,  I  received  another  auto- 
graph letter : 

122 


Putting  Things  Right 

''  Detmold, 
"February  17th,  1906. 
"  Much  Honoured  Mr.  Whitman, — You  have 
given  me  great  pleasure  by  the  kind  transmission 
of  your  interesting  '  Reminiscences  of  Prince 
Bismarck,"  and  I  should  like  to  express  my 
warmest  thanks  to  you  for  it.  You  have  followed 
the  fortunes  of  my  house  during  the  recent  years 
with  so  much  vivid  interest  that  I  feel  impelled 
on  this  occasion  to  reiterate  my  hearty  acknow- 
ledgments.— With  particular  regard  and  respect 
(Verehrung),  I  remain,  ever  yours  sincerely 
obliged, 

''Leopold  Prince  Lipp-e." 

My  journahstic  reminiscences  would  be  incom- 
plete, and  the  gaiety  of  nations  might  suffer 
eclipse,  if  I  were  to  omit  reference  to  a  few  of 
the  many  amusing  Press  "  howlers  "  in  connection 
with  German  affairs  which  have  lingered  in  my 
memory. 

A  London  evening  paper  had  pubhshed  a  para- 
graph describing  the  German  Emperor  as  the 
owner  of  the  Royal  Meissen  China  Manufactory, 
commonly  known  as  the  Dresden  China  Works. 
I  drew  the  editor's  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
manufactory  in  question  is  a  Saxon  State  institu- 
tion, with  which  neither  the  German  Emperor  nor 
even  the  King  of  Saxony,  as  regards  its  being 
his  own  personal  property,  had  any  more  direct 
connection   than   you  or  I.      I   received   a  most 

1^3 


Things  I  Remember 

courteous,  even  flattering,  acknowledgment  of  my 
communication  from  the  editor  to  the  effect  that, 
though  he  was  well  aware  of  the  vast  extent  of 
my  knowledge  and  my  reliability  wdth  regard  to 
German  affairs  generally,  in  this  particular  instance 
he  could  assure  me  that  he  had  a  special  source 
of  information  of  an  even  more  exceptional  nature. 
He  begged  to  inform  me  that  he  knew  for  certain 
that  the  German  Emperor  and  the  King  of  Saxony 
were  in  partnership  in  the  Royal  Meissen  China 
Works.  This  was  almost  too  much  of  a  joke,  so 
I  wrote  to  a  friend  in  Dresden — a  retired  diplo- 
matist who  occupied  an  official  position  at  the 
Saxon  Court,  un  homme  d^esprit,  and  a  wag  into 
the  bargain — and  asked  him  to  be  good  enough 
to  send  me  something  tangible  in  black  and  white 
w^hich  I  could  use  as  evidence  of  the  truth  of 
my  contention.  He  replied,  setting  forth  suc- 
cinctly what  I  had  previously  been  well  aware  of, 
namely,  that  the  royal  porcelain  manufactory  of 
Meissen  is  Saxon  Crown  property  in  the  same  sense 
as  many  other  possessions — that  is  to  say,  they  are 
administered  by  the  Saxon  Government  for  the 
account  of  the  State,  and  figure  as  such  in  the 
Budget  of  the  country.  So  far  as  the  factory 
represents  an  item  of  personal  property,  it  has 
rarely  ever  shown  any  profit,  and  deficiencies  are 
all  made  good  by  the  State.  My  friend  wound 
up  with  the  declaration  that  the  idea  of  the  German 
Emperor  having  any  proprietary  rights  or  shares 
in  the  profit  and  loss  account  of  the  Meissen  china 

124 


Prince  Lichnowsky 

factory  was  ridiculous.  The  editor  yielded  to  this 
last  bomb-shell  and  promised  to  correct  his  state- 
ment, though  I  have  never  seen  the  withdrawal  in 
print. 

In  the  autumn  of  1912  Prince  Lichnowsky  was 
appointed  German  Ambassador  in  London,  and 
town  gossip,  to  which  whole  columns  are  regularly 
reserved  in  some  London  papers,  dealt  copiously, 
as  usual  in  such  cases,  with  the  Prince  and  his 
family.  An  evening  paper,  more  fully  posted 
than  the  rest,  informed  its  readers  that  the  "  Old 
Prince  ' ' — obviously  meaning  the  father  of  the 
Ambassador — had  at  one  time  got  into  trouble  in 
Frankfort-on-the-Maine,  having  for  some  reason 
or  other  made  himself  unpopular.  I  ventured  to 
draw  the  attention  of  the  editor  to  the  fact  that 
the  "  Old  Prince  "  referred  to  had  indeed  had  an 
unfortunate  experience  in  that  city,  inasmuch 
as  he  was  murdered  by  the  mob  on  the  18th  of 
September,  1848 — nearly  twelve  years  before  the 
birth  of  the  young  "  Prince,"  the  Ambassador.  I 
added  that  I  had  never  heard  of  a  posthumous 
birth  taking  place  eleven  and  a  half  years  after 
the  death  of  the  putative  father ;  that,  moreover, 
the  "  Old  Prince  "  only  attained  the  somewhat 
early  age  of  thirty-four,  and  was  not  the  father, 
but  the  uncle  of  the  present  "  Young  Prince." 

Meeting  with  such  generous  appreciation  in 
our  midst,  it  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that 
German  noblemen,  barons,  counts,  princes  and 
princesses — most  of  whom  pass  quite  unnoticed  in 

125 


Things  I  Remember 

their  own  country — are  delighted  to  come  among 
us,  and  are  heartbroken  when  unforeseen  circum- 
stances bid  them  depart.  Even  when  returning 
to  their  native  country  and  called  by  duty  to  fight 
against  us,  they  plaintively  inform  us  that  their 
heart  is  still  in  London. 

It  is,  perhaps,  not  too  much  to  hope  that  the 
present  war  may  bring  a  greater  measure  of  exacti- 
tude in  dealing  with  such  trivial  matters,  let  alone 
with  more  important  affairs  which  have  to  be 
handled  by  the  educators  of  public  opinion. 


126 


CHAPTER   X 

WARSAW   IN   REVOLT 

Seven  years  had  elapsed  since  I  had  voluntarily 
resigned  my  position  on  the  New  York  Herald 
when,  in  the  autumn  of  1905,  I  received  quite 
unexpectedly  a  letter  from  Mr.  Gordon  Bennett 
asking  me  whether  I  cared  to  re-enter  his  service, 
say  for  a  period  of  six  months.  If  so,  I  was  to 
start  at  once  for  Russia,  more  particularly  Moscow, 
where  mischief  was  brewing.  I  accepted  the  offer 
and  started.  On  my  arrival  in  Berlin  I  found  all 
communication  by  land  with  Russia  cut  off  owing 
to  the  great  Russian  railway  strike.  This  involved 
a  delay  of  about  a  fortnight,  at  the  end  of  which 
I  left  for  Warsaw,  in  which  city  one  found  the 
stir  and  excitement  of  big  events  to  come. 

In  1807,  after  the  Peace  of  Tilsit,  Napoleon 
sent  General  Sebastiani  to  Warsaw  to  regulate  the 
Polish  frontier.  He  arrived  at  night  at  the  Hotel 
de  Saxe,  and  in  getting  out  of  his  carriage  he  sank 
up  to  his  ankles  in  the  mud  :  ''  Est-ce  que  c'est 
eeci,  que  cette  canaille  appelle  sa  patrie,"  he 
exclaimed. 

Since  those  distant  days  Warsaw  has  become 
a  modern  city,  with  broad  streets  planted  with 

127 


Things  I  Remember 

rows  of  trees,  tramways,  electric  light  and  elegant 
shops,  for  the  Poles  are  a  highly  intelhgent  people, 
and  under  modem  industrial  conditions  have  made 
great  material  progress.  The  Hotel  Bristol  forms 
an  imposing  block  of  buildings  by  itself.  It  is, 
indeed,  one  of  the  most  luxurious  hotels  in  Europe, 
and  the  dinner  arrangements  and  decorations  have 
all  been  carried  out  by  native  workmen.  The 
theatre,  with  its  frontage  of  Greek  pillars,  is  a 
massive  structure;  one  suited  to  stand  on  some 
elevated  promontory  in  the  ^gean  Sea  surrounded 
by  palms  and  myrtle  rather  than  here,  in  the  north 
of  Europe,  in  a  bare,  flat  plain.  Nevertheless  it 
is  an  ornament  to  a  city  which,  as  I  saw  it  on 
this  visit — who  shall  say  how  it  has  been  changed 
by  the  war  which  has  swept  across  it? — was  a 
marvel  of  the  conquest  of  an  industrious  people 
over  natural  difficulties.  Warsaw  has  its  dignified 
features,  its  splendid  monuments,  chief  of  which 
is  that  to  the  national  poet  and  patriot,  Mickie- 
wicz,  whose  noble  memorial  in  the  centre  of  the 
city,  surrounded  by  tasteful  gardens,  is  the  symbol 
of  the  veneration  of  the  Poles  for  one  who  lives  in 
their  hearts. 

The  broad  boulevards  about  the  town  are  as 
typical  as  those  of  any  modern  Continental  city. 
Now  and  again  they  have  been  swept  clean  by 
shrapnel,  used  in  the  suppression  of  revolutionary 
risings.  Seeing  the  city  as  I  did,  it  was  difficult 
to  realise  the  brooding  spirit  of  unrest  which  sways 
its  inhabitants  and  which  accounts  for  a  large  part 

128 


Old  Warsaw 

of   the  permanent  garrison   of  Russian   soldiery 
which  holds  the  city.    Outwardly  the  Poles  are 
a   light-hearted,    pleasure-loving   people,    with    a 
boisterous  spirit  in  their  outdoor  life  and  a  delight 
in  colour  and  finery  which  suggests  a  life  far  more 
happy  than  that  of  the  more  drab  populations  of 
the  great  industrial  towns  of  the  Western  peoples. 
The  old  market-place,    "  Stare  Miasto,"   has 
a  somewhat  wild  Oriental,   Semitic  appearance. 
The  visitor  is  struck  by  the  crude  gay  colours  of 
the  costumes  worn  and  the  peculiar  tints  of  the 
old  buildings.      For  here   are  to   be   found   the 
oldest  dwelling-houses  in  the  city,  painted  green, 
yellow,  pink  or  blue.     The  insides  of  the  houses, 
with  their  massive  Gothic  archways  and  alcoves, 
offer  us  an  interesting  picture  of  old  days  long 
since  passed,  when  the  kingdom  of  Poland  still 
possessed  Danzig.     Here  are  left  traces  of  the 
old  Hanseatic  town.     In  the  hall  of  the  notable 
restaurant  of  Warsaw  the  model  of  a  sailing  vessel 
is  suspended  from  the  ceiling.    One  might  almost 
fancy  oneself  in  a  wine  shop  in  Danzig,  Liibeck 
or  Bremen,  where,  in  those  days,  town  councillors 
and  merchant  princes  used  to  meet  and  hold  con- 
verse whilst  quaffing  their  claret.     This  particular 
establishment,  with  its  emblem  of  seafaring  com- 
merce, is  a  remnant  of  conditions  long  existent. 
The  modern  Pole,  with  his  eternal  cigarette  be- 
tween his  lips,  does  not  fit  in  with  them ;  he  is  no 
toper  or  carouser  of  the  old  Germanic  sort. 

But  even   more   than   of  the  Hansa   towns, 

J  129 


Things  I  Remember 

Warsaw  reminds  one  of  Dresden,  with  the  Court 
of  which  Poland  was  closely  united  for  many  years. 
The  Saxon  Garden  of  Warsaw  has  a  close  like- 
ness in  style  and  arrangement  to  the  far-famed 
Dresden  Z winger  and  the  Grosser  Garten.  The 
Bruhl  Palace  in  Warsaw  certainly  shows  a  distinct 
resemblance  to  Saxon  architecture  of  two  centuries 
ago ;  it  is  a  royal  palace  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
word  in  the  imposing  proportions  of  its  rococo 
style.  It  brings  the  past  before  us,  with  the  fair- 
haired  Saxon  troopers,  the  Court  ladies,  with 
powdered  hair,  who  once  went  in  and  out  there. 
How  they  would  be  astonished  and  disgusted  if 
they  could  see  the  ugly  cast-iron  pillar  covered 
with  advertisements  right  in  front  of  the  principal 
entrance  to  the  palace ! 

Another  feature  recalling  the  Saxon  con- 
nection of  other  days  is  to  be  met  in  the  many 
grocers'  shops^ — so-called  Italian  warehouses — 
which  resemble  those  that  were  still  to  be  seen 
in  Dresden  fifty  years  ago.  Those  frequenting 
these  establishments  pass  straight  through  the  shop 
into  a  parlour,  where  wine  and  eatables  are  served 
by  the  shopmen,  who,  unlike  waiters,  belong  to 
the  traders'  guild,  and  are  not  supposed  to  accept 
any  gratuities.  The  best  known  Polish  establish- 
ment of  this  kind  is  that  of  Havelka,  in  Cracow ; 
nothing  like  it  is  to  be  seen  elsewhere  in  the  whole 
Austro-Hungarian  Monarchy. 

However,  these  records  of  a  foreign  past  are 
only    of   a   sporadic    kind.     Taken   as   a    whole, 

130 


Temperamental  Differences 

Warsaw  is  quite  modern,  and  indeed  strikingly 
and  singularly  so,  considering  how  far  it  is  situated 
from  the  west  of  Europe. 

The  first  glance  reveals  the  fact  that  you  are 
here  in  the  presence  of  a  different  culture,  with 
a  people  of  different  temperament  from  the  Ger- 
manic which  you  have  left  behind  you  in  Berlin. 
The  aspect  of  the  many  shops  devoted  to  the  sale 
of  perfumery,  confectionery  and  jewellery  (real 
and  imitation),  the  hairdressers'  establishments, 
suggest  the  love  of  finery  and  natural  luxuries  of 
this  remarkable  race.  The  toy  shops  about  War- 
saw railway  station — where  in  other  countries  one 
would  see  stalls  for  cigars  or  refreshments — mark 
a  childish  trait.  There  are  newspaper  stalls,  to  be 
sure,  for  the  various  Polish  papers,  all  of  an 
inferior  kind,  which  are  eagerly  read.  In  Warsaw 
alone  there  are  forty  journals.  Only  French  books 
are  exhibited  for  sale,  and  for  these  high  prices 
are  asked  and  paid.  I  remarked  to  one  of  the 
attendants  that  the  books  seemed  to  be  rather 
expensive.  She  replied,  in  a  rather  offended  way, 
that  well-to-do  travellers  bought  without  asking 
the  price.    Thus  books  are  only  for  the  well-to-do. 

To  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  type  of  the 
Polish  Count  of  the  table  d'hote,  Warsaw  ofFckS 
a  particular  surprise.  It  is  matter  for  wonder 
how,  next  to  the  Polish  Jew,  the  fair-haired, 
fine-featured,  aristocratic  Polish  cast  of  feature 
has  preserved  itself  in  spite  of  revolution,  pestilence 
and  deportation.    You  encounter  the  true  Pole 

131 


Things  I  Remember 

everywhere— in  the  street,  in  the  cafe,  in  the 
shops.  He  is  even  to  be  found  as  a  waiter  or  as 
a  commissionaire  at  an  hotel,  recaUing  by  his 
appearance,  at  once  both  shabby  and  aristocratic, 
visions  of  Heine's  CrapuKnsky  and  Washlapski. 

A  crowd  of  nearly  two  hundred  thousand 
people  moved  through  the  streets  of  Warsaw  on 
the  first  Sunday  after  the  manifesto  of  the  Tsar 
dated  the  30th  of  October,  1905.  Even  in  War- 
saw nothing  like  it  had  ever  been  experienced 
before.  After  one  hundred  years  of  hoping, 
longing  and  expectation,  after  untold  records  of 
killing  and  murdering,  the  day  of  long-promised 
freedom  had  dawned  at  last! 

Coloured  flags  fluttered  from  the  houses,  the 
streets  in  their  whole  length  and  breadth,  far  away 
for  an  area  of  miles,  were  transformed  into  a 
quivering  sea  of  human  beings.  Packed  closely, 
head  upon  head,  the  huge  mass  moved  slowly 
onward.  The  clergy,  in  their  white  vestments, 
took  up  the  centre;  around  them  were  elaborate 
standards  perched  on  high — flags,  banners,  upon 
which  Poland's  heraldic  eagles  shine.  National 
songs  resounded  from  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
voices.  In  front  of  the  monument  of  Mickiewicz 
all  reverently  uncovered  their  heads,  only  to  re- 
cover them  demonstratively  in  front  of  the  statue 
of  General  Paskewicz,  who  in  his  time  suppressed 
the  national  movement  in  blood. 

We  entered  a  newspaper  office.  It  offered  a 
strange   picture.     Everybody  was  hard  at  work 

132 


The  Situation  becomes  Worse 

sending  out  and  spreading  abroad  by  means  of 
printed  words  the  idea  of  the  revolution.  A  lady 
of  striking  appearance,  no  longer  young,  but 
voluptuously  handsome  still,  entered.  She  carried 
**  corrected  proofs"  in  her  arms,  and  apparentljt 
did  her  work  like  everyone  else.  But  one  could 
see  that  this  woman  had  her  whole  soul  in  her 
task  :  that  it  would  not  want  much  incitement  to 
find  her,  too,  behind  a  barricade. 

Little  thought  seemed  to  be  bestowed  either 
on  the  sale  of  the  paper  or  the  collecting  of 
advertisements  at  the  office.  The  editor  of  the 
paper — a  tall,  lean,  dark  personage,  with  sharply 
accentuated  Israelitish  features — stood  speaking 
nervously  at  the  telephone.  Last  night  he  was 
haranguing  a  secret  revolutionary  meeting  until 
the  early  hours  of  the  morning,  when  he  furtively 
threaded  his  way  home  through  the  military  cor- 
dons at  the  imminent  risk  of  his  life.  He  tells 
us  the  situation  is  getting  worse  and  worse — 
almost  unbearable.  The  Government  has  closed 
all  theatres — the  actors  are  starving.  The  schools, 
the  University — even  the  school  of  veterinary 
surgery — are  closed.  Sentinels  stand  on  guard  in 
front  of  preparatory  schools  for  children.  At  the 
moment  someone  telephones  to  the  editor  that 
the  soldiery  has  been  playing  havoc  overnight  in 
a  remote  suburb ;  all  this  must  be  got  unvarnished 
into  the  evening's  number  of  the  paper.  Hun- 
dreds of  strikers  are  standing  below  in  the  street, 
and  up  here  in  the  newspaper  office  they  are  busy 

133 


Things  I  Remember 

distributing  tickets  for  free  meals  amongst  the 
hunger-stricken  crowd.  The  air  is  saturated  with 
excitement :  "  Death  to  the  pohce  !  Hatred  and 
grim  scorn  of  the  Government  and  the  mihtary !" 

Great  is  the  poverty  in  the  city.  Even  coal, 
gas  and  food  are  said  to  be  lacking  with  those 
otherwise  comfortably  off ;  but  a  generous  charit- 
able endeavour  is  almost  as  widely  prevalent  in 
the  indigence  amongst  this  passionate,  happy- 
go-lucky  population.  Beggars  crowd  upon  the 
passers-by  in  the  street,  and  are  very  seldom 
repulsed.  People  give  so  long  as  they  have  any- 
thing left  in  their  pockets  to  give.  The  money 
which  is  usually  spent  at  funerals  for  flowers  and 
wreaths — people  are  dying  all  the  time  here — is 
readily  given  to  the  poor. 

And  yet,  amidst  all  these  excitements,  these 
sufferings,  these  psychic  emotions — ^for  there  is 
hardly  a  family  in  Warsaw  which  has  not  lost  a 
member  fallen  in  the  Revolution  and  in  whom  this 
memory  lives  on — the  crowd  bears  witness  to  a 
remarkable  carelessness.  A  soldier  stands  with 
fixed  bayonet  at  each  corner  of  the  roadway  and 
cavalry  patrols  ride  through  the  streets  without 
interruption.  One  is  never  sure  that  a  rifle  may 
not  be  fired,  for  during  this  cold  weather  the 
vodka  is  flowing  in  abundance,  and  its  effects, 
particularly  in  the  night,  are  apt  to  be  confusing. 
Nevertheless  it  all  looks  as  if  it  were  a  picture  of 
everyday  life :  children  crossing  the  Weichsel 
Bridge,  on  their  way  to  school,  as  if  they  were 

134 


A  Crowd  in  the  Square 

in  a  peaceful  Philistine  German  town.  But  little 
excitement  appears  on  the  surface  amidst  a  display 
of  military  force  such  as  no  other  town  in  Europe 
could  then  have  mustered.  Somewhere  about 
80,000  soldiers  were  said  to  be  in  Warsaw  at  that 
time,  yet  it  was  continually  raging,  heaving, 
fermenting — a  conflict  between  military  force 
and  the  national  idea  which  has  now  been  trans- 
ferred from  generation  to  generation  for  more 
than  a  century.  The  instinct  of  rebellion  has 
now  become  part  of  the  flesh  and  blood  of  the 
women  and  children,  so  that  one  might  even  say 
that  this  people  has  forgotten  and  unlearnt  the 
fear  of  the  drawn  sword. 

In  spite,  or  rather  in  consequence,  of  the 
terrible  blood  baths  ^  which  have  been  dealt  out 
amongst  them  from  time  to  time,  the  Poles  may 
be  said  to  be  on  a  familiar  footing  with  murders 
and  massacres,  and  to  have  nearly  approached  the 
standpoint  of  cold  contempt  for  them. 

There  comes  to  me  one  mind  picture  of  my 
experiences  at  this  visit. 

It  is  late  in  the  evening;  an  enormous  crowd 
has  gathered  in  the  square  in  front  of  the  theatre. 
Some  attempt  to  escape,  but  they  cannot  get 
clear  of  the  huge  throng.  An  infantry  cordon 
blocks  their  way  at  the  one  side,  and  a  sotnia  of 
Cossacks,   on  the  other,  forces  them  back  with 

*  According  to  reliable  testimony,  between  the  months  of  January 
and  November,  1905,  500  persons  were  killed  and  2,000  wounded  in 
Warsaw. 

135 


Things  I  Remember 

cruel  blows  of  their  nagaikas.  Suddenly  there 
arises  a  shout :  "  The  soldiers  are  about  to  fire!" 
and  guns  are  distinctly  visible  through  the  dark- 
ness—brought from  the  courtyard  of  the  Govern- 
ment building  and  placed  in  a  position  to  command 
and  sweep  the  whole  square.  A  man  bearing  a 
white  flag  in  his  hand  steps  forward  out  of  the 
frightened  crowd.  Pale,  but  proudly  erect  and 
self-possessed,  he  stands  alone,  unarmed,  in  the 
midst  of  this  agitated  sea  of  humanity,  when  one 
thoughtless  movement,  a  word,  even  a  look,  might 
portend  a  terrible  catastrophe  for  hundreds.  He 
speaks  in  a  calm  voice  with  an  officer  of  the 
artillery,  whilst  the  artillerymen  ^  stand  behind 
their  guns  with  torches  which  throw  a  grim  light 
on  the  scene.  He  who  has  to  spend  his  life  under 
such  conditions  ends  by  looking  on  death  as  a  mere 
episode. 

Even  in  private  houses  in  Warsaw  things  wear 
a  different  aspect  from  that  found  in  any  other  part 
of  Europe.  The  absence  of  every  conventionality 
is  particularly  striking.  One  can  see  that  the 
people  possess  a  certain  culture  and  a  strongly 
marked  artistic  sense,  but  there  is  no  system,  no 
order.  Everything  is  pell-mell,  higgledy-piggledy. 
They  live  from  hand  to  mouth,  and  spend  the 
income  of  a  German  Minister  sometimes  without 
having  even  the  most  common  necessaries  in  the 
home. 

A  pane  of  glass  in  a  window  leading  to  the 
street  is  broken.     The  inmates  sat  together  last 

136 


"  Nitchewo  " 

night  at  a  table  when  a  clatter  was  heard,  and  a 
little  mortar  fell  on  to  the  table.  It  was  nothing 
in  particular.  Someone  in  the  street — it  could 
not  be  found  out  whether  it  was  a  soldier,  a 
policeman,  or  a  revolutionary — had  fired  a  revolver, 
most  hkely  out  of  recklessness,  and  the  bullet  had 
entered  through  the  window  into  the  ceiling. 
''Nitchewo"  (''It  doesn't  matter")  says  the 
Russian,  and  the  Pole  says — nothing ! 

The  walls  of  the  rooms  in  one  small  house, 
typical  of  many,  are  adorned  with  portraits  of 
Polish  patriots,  some  still  living,  others  long  since 
deceased,  the  latter  nearly  all  with  clean-shaven, 
serious,  even  melancholy  faces.  The  outer  world 
finds  no  space  here ;  even  some  genre  pictures  are 
the  work  of  Polish  artists.  Quite  by  itself  in 
a  dark  corner  hangs  the  life-size  portrait  in  oils 
of  a  beautiful  woman  with  a  strangely  marked 
profile.  Bold  and  challenging  she  looks  down 
from  the  canvas,  and  yet  there  is  a  quaint, 
fascinating  charm  in  the  aristocratic  features,  an 
infinity  of  passionate  devotion,  an  unspeakable 
sorrow — all  but  that  which  is  noblest,  the  capacity 
for  renunciation,  revealing  itself  in  her  expression. 
Something  of  the  siren  coupled  with  stormy 
passion,  that  which  drives  to  action,  to  revolt,  to 
a  catastrophe,  even  to  crime,  appears  in  the  face. 
There,  one  feels,  is  the  w^oman  of  whom  Shake- 
speare says  :  "  Others  appease,  you  excite  desire." 

Thus  may  those  Polish  Countesses  Potocka 
and  Walewska  have  looked  who  bound  a  world- 

137 


Things  I  Remember 

conqueror  to  their  apron-strings.  The  original  of 
the  portrait,  as  my  host  informed  me,  was  the 
wife  of  a  Pohsh  artist,  and,  Hke  him,  of  a  stormy, 
revolutionary  bent.  With  true  Pohsh  restlessness 
she  found  neither  contentment  nor  peace  in  her 
own  home.  She  gave  herself  away,  first  to  one, 
then  to  another  admirer,  till  at  last  she  fled  with 
the  third  lover  to  the  Caucasus.  In  Tiflis  she  was 
found  dead  with  her  paramour  in  her  residence. 
The  family  histories  of  Poland  are  filled  with  such 
tragedies. 

But  to  return  to  the  political  events  of  those 
days  of  1905.  All  eyes  were  directed  towards 
Moscow,  where  the  Duma  was  just  holding  its  last 
sittings.  There  they  spoke  of  granting  autonomy 
to  the  Poles  and  equality  to  the  Jews.  Forty 
Russian  professors  working  at  Polish  universities 
telegraphed  their  thanks  to  Moscow.  The  Russian 
bureaucracy  was  to  be  abolished,  if  only  the  Ger- 
mans would  not  interfere  at  the  last  moment ;  but 
all  was  said  to  depend  on  Count  Witte  and  the 
Duma. 

The  excitements  and  anxieties  of  that  time 
are  dead.  Ten  years  of  political  manoeuvre  have 
passed,  but  the  hopes  of  Poland,  even  amid  the 
calamities  which  have  fallen  upon  it,  seem  again 
possible  of  realisation.  To  self-government  under 
the  Russian  sceptre  the  Poles  have  looked  for- 
ward. Now  they  have  the  promise  that  their 
hopes  may  be  realised,  and  it  is  in  that  belief  that 
thousands  of  them  have  shed  their  blood  in  the 

138 


Polish  Talent 

Russian  armies.  Much  might  be  said  from  the 
Polish  and  from  the  Russian  standpoint  for  this 
solution  of  the  Polish  question ;  for,  next  to  the 
Finns,  the  Poles  are  by  far  the  most  cultivated, 
and  certainly  the  most  gifted,  people  of  the 
Russian  Empire.  The  rapid  rise  of  Lodz,  the 
Manchester  of  Russia,  and  the  industrial  progress 
of  Warsaw  show  what  the  Poles  are  capable  of 
achieving  in  industry  on  modem  technical  lines. 
In  the  intellectual  field,  too,  the  Poles  might  do 
something  great — if  once  the  road  was  fairly 
opened  to  national  talent.  Even  as  it  is,  a 
number  of  Poles  have  risen  to  high  positions  in 
Russia,  as  also  in  Germany  and  the  Austrian 
Empire.  Intelligent  Poles  even  admit  that 
Poland  could  not  exist  without  the  Russian 
markets,  neither  could  their  national  development 
proceed  if  they  were  entirely  cut  off  from  the 
Russian  Empire.  Nothing  could  be  more  bene- 
ficial for  Russia  than  that,  with  the  return  of 
normal  conditions,  she  should  find  support  in  a 
prosperous,  contented  Poland. 

Let  there  be  no  mistake,  however.  The  heart 
of  Poland,  if  not  the  brain,  looks  to  the  restora- 
tion of  Polish  independence  and  the  bringing 
under  one  national  flag  of  the  broken  fragments 
of  a  race.  Revolution  has  become  almost  endemic 
in  the  course  of  generations,  and  the  spirit  of 
which  it  is  born  will  not  easily  be  eradicated. 
Revolution  corresponds  to  the  natural  exigencies 
of  the  national  temperament,  and  thus  is  likely  to 

139 


Things  I  Remember 

become  the  greatest  obstacle  to  the  future  peace- 
ful developments  of  the  Polish  people.  How  can 
self-government  work  with  such  a  people?  At 
present  a  social  democratic  Republic  need  not  be 
considered ;  such  an  institution  for  the  Poles  would 
perish  by  its  own  unreality. 

Would  the  Poles,  with  their  history  and 
their  temperament,  be  likely  to  develop  under 
autonomous  conditions?  These  questions  are  on 
the  knees  of  the  future,  and  I  should  be  bold 
indeed,  with  the  memory  of  Warsaw  as  I  have 
seen  it,  to  attempt  an  answer. 

Yet  Poland  does  not  always  dwell  politically 
in  revolution.  There  are  few  gayer,  wittier,  more 
versatile  people  than  our  friends  in  Warsaw.  It 
rarely  happens  that  a  stranger  able  to  speak 
German  is  in  Warsaw  many  days  without  hearing 
the  last  anecdote,  which  generally  deals  with  the 
Polish  Jew  in  a  humorous  spirit.  It  may  even  be 
much  as  follows :  A  Jew  who  traded  in  chemicals 
was  called  before  the  law  courts  because  he  had 
sold  poison  without  fulfilling  the  legal  enactments 
bearing  on  such  transactions. 

The  magistrate  proceeded  to  read  out  the 
charge  when  the  Jew  suddenly  interrupted  him 
with  the  question :  "  Excuse  me,  Mr.  President, 
do  you  understand  anything  about  chemicals?" 
''Mr.  S.,  the  expert,  is  here  in  that  capacity," 
replied  the  judge,  pointing  to  the  gentleman  in 
question.  "  And  you,  Mr.  S.,"  queried  the  Jew, 
addressing  himself  to  the  expert,  "  do  you  under- 

140 


A  Poser  for  the  Judge 

stand  anything  about  law?"  "You  have  just 
heard  from  His  Worship,"  rephed  Mr.  S.,  "that 
I  am  an  expert  in  chemicals.  If  you  want  to  know 
anything  about  law,  please  address  yourself  to  the 
judge."  "  I  ask  you,  Mr.  President,  just  to  con- 
sider the  case  for  one  moment.  You  are  the  judge 
of  the  court,  and  admit  that  you  do  not  under- 
stand anything  about  chemicals;  and  the  expert 
tells  us  that  he  does  not  know  anything  about  law. 
And  I,  a  poor  Jew,  am  expected  to  be  familiar 
both  with  the  law  and  with  chemicals.  Now,  Mr. 
President,  I  ask  you  how  you  can  possibly  convict 
me?" 


141 


CHAPTER   XI 

MOSCOW   IN   REVOLUTION 

Moscow  I  was  destined  to  see  in  extraordinary 
circumstances,  although  these  did  not  prove  nearly 
so  strange  as  they  were  represented  in  the  news- 
papers of  other  parts  of  Europe,  which  have  never 
been  remarkable  for  their  knowledge  of  Russian 
affairs.  The  new  spirit  was  burgeoning  in  the 
Russian  people.  It  had  been  manifested  in  a 
series  of  strikes.  The  incidents  attendant  upon 
these  I  witnessed,  and  it  was  my  fortune  to  meet 
men  of  all  shades  of  opinion,  from  the  strike 
leaders  themselves  to  the  soldiers  who  were  engaged 
in  repressing  the  rising.  I  arrived  at  Moscow  on 
the  26th  of  November,  1905.  The  Hotel  Metro- 
pole,  at  which  I  alighted,  was  occupied  by  police 
and  soldiers ;  some  fifty  dragoons  bivouacked  in 
the  inner  courtyard.  I  was  told  that  three  hun- 
dred more  were  quartered  in  and  about  the  hotel 
— a  larger  number  of  any  one  single  army  than  I 
saw  during  the  whole  of  my  stay  in  Moscow.  It 
was  the  first  of  the  many  exaggerations  which  I 
encountered  during  the  course  of  my  stay. 

A  strike  of  waiters  had  broken  out  in  the  city 
two  days  previously,  and  the  strike  committee  had 

142 


The  Postal  Strike 

informed  the  manager  of  the  hotel  that  if  he  did 
not  immediately  dismiss  those  waiters  who  still 
remained  in  his  service  (and  there  were  only  a 
very  few)  his  life  would  not  be  safe.  Several  large 
plate-glass  windows  of  the  hotel  cafe-restaurant 
had  already  been  smashed,  and  the  rumour  spread 
that  one  might  look  out  for  bombs.  The  police 
were  powerless. 

I  had  hardly  been  in  Moscow  forty-eight 
hours — it  was  the  afternoon  of  Tuesday,  Novem- 
ber 28th,  at  5.30 — when  an  employee  of  the  head 
post  office  came  to  the  hotel  and  informed  the 
hall  porter  that  the  postal  officials  were  going  on 
strike  at  six  o'clock,  and  that  from  this  hour  no 
more  letters  or  telegrams  would  be  accepted  or 
delivered.  I  had  just  time  to  send  two  dispatches 
— one  to  London  and  the  other  to  Paris — when 
the  curtain  between  Moscow  and  the  outer  world 
fell,  and  was  not  raised  during  the  whole  of  my 
five  weeks'  stay.  Shortly  after  the  beginning  of 
the  strike  I  sent  word  by  an  interpreter  to  the 
chief  of  the  strike  committee  that  if  he  would 
arrange  a  time  and  place  of  meeting,  I  should  be 
glad  to  hear  his  views  on  the  grievances  of  the 
postal  officials  and  bring  them  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  outer  world.  On  the  evening  of  Decem- 
ber Isi;  he  came  to  see  me  at  the  hotel,  accompanied 
by  a  colleague. 

His  name  was  Parfenenko,  a  regular  Russian 
of  the  type  familiar  in  illustrations,  with  small 
blue  eyes,  a  short  stumpy  nose,  very  fair  hair,  and 

M3 


Things  I  Remember 

of  slight  build.  His  manner  was  quiet  and  retir- 
ing, almost  gentle,  so  that  I  certainly  should  not 
have  suspected  him  of  being  the  intellectual  head 
of  an  agitation  the  activity  of  which  extended  at 
that  moment  over  a  considerable  portion  of  the 
inhabited  world,  for  the  postal  and  telegraphic 
service  throughout  the  whole  Russian  Empire  had, 
as  if  by  magic,  suddenly  come  to  a  standstill. 

Neither  Parfenenko  nor  his  companion  spoke  a 
word  of  German,  or  any  other  language  but 
Russian,  though  the  latter 's  name,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  was  Miiller,  and  in  appearance  he  might 
easily  have  been  taken  for  a  Prussian  Landwehr 
officer.  He  had  a  full  beard  and  regular  Germanic 
features.  By  means  of  my  interpreter  these 
gentlemen  told  me  that  although  their  pecuniary 
conditions  were  far  from  satisfactory  (Parfenenko 
was  an  employe  of  the  second  class,  and  drew  a 
salary  of  100  roubles  monthly ;  whilst  the  inferior 
class  received  only  11  roubles  monthly),  this  was 
not  the  main  reason  why  they  had  struck.  Their 
motives  were  more  of  a  political  than  an 
economical  character.  In  view  of  their  uncertain 
legal  status — a  consequence  of  the  autocratic 
absolutism  which  prevailed  in  the  higher  circles 
— the  post  and  telegraph  servants  had  formed 
an  association  of  which  Moscow  was  the  centre. 
The  Government  had  discovered  the  names  of 
the  leaders,  and  dismissed  six  of  them,  includ- 
ing Parfenenko  and  Miiller.  Thereupon  the 
committee  of  the  association  had  telegraphed  to 

144 


Attacking  the  Mails 

Count  Witte  that,  unless  the  six  men  were  re- 
instated within  twenty-four  hours,  all  post  and 
telegraph  employes  in  the  Empire  would  imme- 
diately go  on  strike.  As  no  answer  was  received, 
the  strike  took  place  on  the  28th  of  November. 
Both  gentlemen  assured  me  that,  unless  the 
Government  gave  way,  chaos  would  arise.  I 
promised  to  send  these  statements  to  my  paper, 
and  wrote  to  that  effect;  my  communication, 
however,  never  apparently  reached  its  destination. 
M.  Parfenenko  thanked  me,  and  said  that  if  I 
ever  wanted  to  send  a  telegram  abroad  I  was  to 
apply  to  him,  and  he  would  see  that  it  was  for- 
warded. Some  days  afterwards  I  heard  by  chance 
that  he,  as  well  as  his  five  colleagues,  had  been 
arrested  and  cast  into  prison. 

The  post  and  telegraph  offices  throughout 
Moscow  were  closed  to  the  public  for  more  than 
a  week  and  guarded  by  Cossacks.  The  mail  carts 
were  escorted  by  cavalry  on  their  way  to  and  from 
the  railway  station.  The  papers  published  reports 
of  attempts  on  the  part  of  the  strikers  to  attack 
and  rob  carts  in  the  streets.  These  attempts, 
however,  were  not  successful,  though  they  added 
to  the  difiiculties  of  the  situation,  particularly  in 
preventing  the  carrying  of  letters  by  postmen  in 
mufti,  who  were  nervous,  and  not  without  reason. 
Meanwhile  the  banks  and  other  large  business 
houses  represented  on  the  Moscow  Exchange  had 
joined  hands,  and  organised  a  regular  courier 
service  by  rail  to  the  frontier  station  of  Eydtkuh- 

K  145 


Things  I  Remember 

nen.  They  were  supported  in  this  action  by  the 
Government,  which  placed  an  unhmited  number 
of  free  railway  passes  at  their  disposal. 

The  strike  of  the  cafe  and  hotel  waiters  con- 
tinued. It  was  on  a  far  more  extensive  scale 
than  might  have  appeared  at  first  sight,  inas- 
much as  there  were  ten  thousand  to  fifteen 
thousand  waiters  in  Moscow,  all  occupations  con- 
nected with  pourhoire  being  much  sought  after 
in  Russia.  One  morning  the  leader  of  the  strike 
committee  was  arrested  in  bed.  The  following 
night  the  strikers  went  in  crowds  to  the  Suchefsk 
prison,  liberated'  their  leader,  and  carried  him  off 
in  triumph.  Many  cooks  and  other  hotel  servants 
now  joined  the  strikers.  In  one  hotel  alone,  the 
Metropole,  228  of  the  staff  went  on  strike.  We 
must  imagine  a  luxurious  hotel,  much  larger  than 
the  Paris  ''  Grand,"  left  suddenly  without  waiters. 
Many  of  the  shops  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
Metropole  were  closed  and  boarded  up.  Cavalry 
and  police  patrolled  the  streets  by  day  and  night. 

The  visitors  staying  at  the  hotel  were  informed 
that  the  dining-room  and  cafe-restaurant  were 
closed,  and  that  they  would  have  to  take  their 
meals  in  their  bedrooms.  Meanwhile  a  large 
concert-room  on  the  fourth  floor,  situated  in  the 
centre  of  the  building — thus  safe  from  outside — 
was  being  got  ready,  and  meals  were  served  there 
between  one  and  two  in  the  afternoon  and  seven 
and  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  These  were  the 
only  hours  when  you  could  get  anything  to  eat. 

146 


A  "Scratch"  Meal 

There  was  no  baking,  no  washing,  and  no  electric 
light.  A  promiscuous  assortment  of  people  wait- 
ing on  us  did  their  best.  The  manager,  in  evening 
dress  and  white  tie,  the  staff  of  the  bureau,  the 
porters  of  the  different  floors,  a  few  kitchen  boys, 
with  their  dark  blue  blouses,  naked  arms  and 
turned-up  sleeves,  all  helped  to  serve  a  Parisian- 
cooked  dinner.  There  was  no  order;  everybody 
moved  to  and  fro ;  officers  sat  with  unfastened 
swords  lying  on  the  table  ;  ladies  helped  themselves 
from  the  serving  side-table.  A  number  of  visitors 
smoked  between  the  courses ;  among  them  were 
some  ladies.  Drinks,  from  vodka  to  Pommery 
Greno  in  tumblers,  were  in  demand.  It  was  a 
picture  not  likely  to  be  forgotten. 

The  railway  sitrike,  which  had  lasted  some 
weeks,  had  fortunately  come  to  an  end,  or  things 
might  have  been  still  more  serious.  Among  the 
visitors  who  had  arrived  overnight  was  a  Scotsman 
and  his  son  who  had  come  from  Petrograd — then 
Petersburg,  of  course — where  they  were  interested 
in  a  factory,  and  intended  to  leave  the  same  even- 
ing for  Siberia.  They  believed  that  the  strike — 
which  for  the  moment  was  the  all-absorbing  topic 
— could  not  be  of  long  duration.  The  Chief  of 
the  Police  of  our  district,  whose  acquaintance  I 
had  made  in  the  hotel,  was  of  the  same  opinion. 
"  These  people,"  he  said,  "  are  quite  unfit  for  the 
liberty  they  ask  for  in  this  noisy  fashion.  They 
quite  readily  believe  the  wildest  nonsense  so  long 
as  they  see  it  in  type.    Printed  matter  has  the 

147 


Things  I  Remember 

same  effect  on  them  as  alcohol  on  a  weak  head. 
They  cannot  stand  it." 

The  unreasonable  demands  put  forward  by 
some  of  the  strikers  were  calculated  to  confirm 
that  view  of  the  situation.  The  hotel  waiters  had 
asked  for  a  fixed  wage  of  fifteen  roubles  per  month, 
besides  ten  per  cent,  of  the  receipts.  The  hotel 
proprietors  naturally  refused  these  demands,  and 
made  the  counter-proposal  that  the  waiters  should 
carry  on  the  business  themselves,  and  pay  ten 
per  cent,  of  their  takings  to  the  owners.  Other 
requests  of  a  similarly  impossible  kind  were  put 
forward  on  both  sides.  In  the  meanwhile  we  lived 
on  under  conditions  of  a  mild  kind  of  anarchy 
not  very  different  from  that  which  would  have 
delighted  the  heart  of  the  eminent  scientific 
anarchist.  Prince  Kropotkin. 

The  pecuniary  loss  and  damage  caused  by 
these  events  in  Moscow  was  calculated,  at  the 
time  of  my  stay,  to  have  amounted  to  millions  of 
roubles.  Many  of  the  hotels,  which  at  this  time 
of  the  season  had  hundreds  of  visitors,  now  only 
had  ten  or  twenty.  Thousands  of  unemployed, 
who  were  at  the  end  of  their  means  and  had  come 
back  from  the  provinces,  gathered  in  front  of  the 
Town  Hall  daily  and  asked  to  be  sent  back  to  their 
homes  at  the  expense  of  the  municipality.  The 
authorities  had  telephoned  for  the  immediate  re- 
inforcing of  the  Cossacks,  as  comparatively  few 
troops  were  quartered  in  Moscow. 

Part  of  the  responsibility  for  the  postal  strike 
148 


Inside  the  G.P.O. 

was  ascribed  to  the  chief  of  the  Moscow  post  oflBce. 
He  was  dismissed,  and  three  head  inspectors  of 
the  Imperial  post  were  sent  from  Petrograd  to 
Moscow  to  take  his  place.  The  new  postmaster, 
Colonel  Stetkiewitsch,  was  a  distinguished-look- 
ing, self-contained  man,  whom,  judging  from 
appearances,  one  would  be  inclined  to  credit  with 
a  certain  faculty  for  business  organisation.  He 
received  me  with  courtesy,  and  conducted;  me 
through  the  post  and  telegraph  offices,  which 
were  guarded  by  soldiers  with  fixed  bayonets.  In 
an  inner  court  of  the  building  were  several  rail- 
way carriages  and  sledges,  still  filled  with  mail- 
bags  and  other  postal  matter  protruding  from 
thick  watertight  covers  on  which  fresh-fallen 
snow  was  lying. 

In  the  interior  of  the  building  all  was  chaos. 
The  declaration  of  the  strikers  that  all  the 
employees  had  joined'  the  strike  was  evidently 
not  true;  nevertheless,  I  saw  few  officials  at 
work,  though  a  large  crowd  was  standing  at  the 
entrance,  composed  of  strikers  seeking  re-engage- 
ment or  fresh  hands  who  offered  themselves  for 
work.  The  new  chief  understood  only  a  little 
French,  and  the  newly  employed  men,  with  the 
exception  of  a  very  few,  were  conversant  only 
with  the  Russian  letters  of  the  alphabet.  As  the 
addresses  of  all  postal  matter  coming  from  abroad 
were  written  in  Latin  or  German  letters,  they  had 
to  be  re-written  in  Russian  characters,  and  where 
special  remarks  were  added,  these  too  had  first  to 

149 


Things  I  Remember 

be  translated'  into  Russian.  It  was  principally 
owing  to  this  circumstance  that  several  weeks 
elapsed  before  the  Moscow  public  received  their 
foreign  letters.  For  instance,  at  the  end  of 
January,  1906,  I  received  letters  in  Berlin  which 
had  arrived  for  me  in  Moscow  at  the  beginning 
of  December,  and  had  to  be  sent  after  me.  Pass- 
ing through  the  sorting  rooms,  I  saw  on  tables, 
stacked  in  endless  rows,  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
letters  which  could  not  be  sent  out,  partly  because 
there  were  no  postmen  to  deliver  them,  but  also 
because  no  one  was  able  to  read  the  addresses. 
The  disorganisation  was  most  striking  in  the  parcel 
post  department.  There  were  many  hundreds  of 
large,  black  leather  postbags  lying  about,  some 
containing  printed  matter,  others  partly  filled 
with  letters,  and'  closed  with  heavy  steel  chains 
to  guard  them  against  thieves. 

From  the  post  office  we  passed  into  the  street, 
and  went  on  to  the  telegraph  building  in  the 
immediate  vicinity.  Here  there  was  less  disorder, 
but  everything  was  at  a  srtandstill.  Only  a  few 
officials  were  to  be  seen,  and  the  telegraph 
apparatus  was  lying  idle.  Only  after  a  second 
visit,  about  ten  days  later,  was  I  enabled,  through 
the  amiability  of  the  postmaster,  to  get  a  telegram 
forward,  via  Kiev  and  Lemberg,  to  Paris. 

On  the  16th  of  December,  a  few  days  before 
the  outbreak  of  the  general  strike,  I  called  upon 
the  newly  appointed  Mayor  of  Moscow — Alex- 
ander Gutschkoff's  brother,  Nicolai  Gutschkoff — 

150 


Assassinations 

in  his  office  at  the  Town  Hall.  He  was  a  man 
of  unaffected,  simple  appearance,  of  sHght  build 
and  medium  height,  whose  serious  face  reflected  a 
deep  sense  of  responsibility  and  anxiety.  He  gave 
me  the  impression  of  being  overworked  and  full 
of  trouble ;  in  the  circumstances,  quite  natural. 
I  noticed  that  he  was  easily  accessible  to  every- 
one, even  the  poorest,  and  it  surprised  me  that 
he  had  no  police  or  military  guard.  His  best 
security  lay  evidently  in  the  respect  and  esteem 
of  his  fellow-citizens — a  very  uncertain  warranty 
at  that  juncture,  to  judge  by  what  he  told  me 
and  by  what  had'  happened  shortly  before.  The 
last  mayor  but  one  had  been  assassinated,  so  had 
the  previous  Governor-General  (the  Grand  Duke 
Serge)  and  the  last  chief  of  the  police  (Count 
Schuvaloff),  and  during  my  stay  the  chief  of  the 
secret  police  was  assassinated  in  his  own  dwelling 
in  a  most  revolting  manner. 

I  asked  M.  Nicolai  Gutschkoff  if  he  thought 
the  situation  had  improved.  He  replied  in  the 
affirmative,  but  only  to  a  certain  extent.  It  was 
still  far  from  the  normal,  he  said.  He  thought 
the  next  eight  days  would  be  critical  ones.  He, 
as  well  as  his  brother,  had  great  hopes  from  the 
efforts  of  Count  Witte.  He  deplored  the  reign- 
ing terrorism  associated  with  moral  cowardice. 
He  told  me  that  even  he,  as  Mayor  of  Moscow, 
was  not  always  able  to  get  his  orders  printed  in 
the  newspapers.  Sometimes  it  did  not  suit  their 
proprietors  to  publish  them;  at  others  the  com- 

151 


Things  I  Remember 

positors  refused  to  set  up  notices  which  displeased 
them.  The  strangest  thing  of  all  (he  said)  was  the 
comparatively  small  number  of  the  real  revolu- 
tionaries :  those  who  agitated,  hounded  on,  and 
intimidated  the  strikers.  He  assured  me  that  he 
knew  them  nearly  all  by  sight,  and  that  they 
were  generally  the  same  faces  which  cropped  up 
again. 

Finally  he  told  me :  "  The  fever-heat  of 
passion  is  so  great  among  the  extreme  party  that 
they  call  us  reactionaries — we  who  two  years  ago 
were  the  first  to  raise  our  voice  in  favour  of 
liberal  reform.  It  may  be  partly  ascribed  to  our 
perseverance  that  the  Imperial  manifesto  has  been 
issued.  At  that  time  we  were  dubbed  Radicals  by 
those  who  were  not  of  our  party.  In  reality  we 
are  the  soul  of  the  popular  movement,  as  we  ask 
for  the  utmost  which  can  be  safely  conceded  with 
due  regard  for  the  welfare  of  the  country — a 
liberal  form  of  Government  under  a  constitutional 
Monarchy." 

On  Wednesday,  the  20th  of  December,  it  was 
rumoured  that  the  general  strike  would  break  out 
the  next  day,  and  one  already  saw  workmen  nail- 
ing up  with  boards  the  shop  windows  in  the 
principal  streets.  On  the  morning  of  Decem- 
ber 21st  Moscow  awoke  with  the  general  strike 
in  progress — in  other  words,  under  a  reign  of 
terror.  The  workmen  on  strike  were  paid  their 
wages  without  interruption,  the  manufacturers 
fearing  that  if  they  withheld  them  their  factories 

152 


The  General  Strike 

might  be  set  on  fire  and  burnt  to  the  ground — as, 
indeed,  did  happen  in  several  cases  within  the  next 
fortnight. 

It  is  said  that  the  first  feeling  which  a  man 
experiences  when  he  receives  a  death  sentence  is 
one  of  relief;  at  last  the  terrible  uncertainty  is 
over.  A  similar  frame  of  mind  affected  the 
population  of  Moscow  when  it  became  known 
how  things  exactly  stood.  Yet  everything  passed 
off  differently  from  what  one  might  have  expected 
elsewhere.  For,  while  the  word  ''terror"  is 
conjured  up  in  pictures  of  excited  masses,  howl- 
ing demagogues,  violent  encounters,  with  the 
guillotine  as  a  centrepiece,  everything  went  on  in 
an  almost  uncanny  silence.  I  cannot  remember 
having  heard  a  loud  or  excited  word  spoken  during 
the  whole  of  those  days — only  the  peremptory 
command,  ''Stoi!"  (''Halt!"),  of  the  soldier 
facing  the  passer-by  with  bayonet  fixed.  With 
the  stroke  of  midday  on  the  21st  of  December 
every  business  came  to  a  standstill,  and  all  the 
shops,  except  those  selling  food,  were  closed,  as 
on  an  English  Sunday. 

I  happened  to  be  in  the  Twerskaya,  one  of  the 
principal  streets  leading  from  the  Duma  (Town 
Hall)  to  the  Palace  of  the  Governor-General, 
when  a  sotnia  of  Cossacks  appeared  on  the  scene 
and  rode  at  a  sharp  trot  past  us  up  the  street. 
There  were  from  fifteen  to  eighteen  degrees  of 
cold  (Reaumur),  and  the  troops  were  wrapped  in 
their  bashliks,  the  horses  moving  in  a  cloud  of 

153 


Things  I  Remember 

vapour.  Suddenly,  about  five  hundred  paces 
ahead,  the  Cossacks  veered  round,  and  I  could  see 
them  charging  the  crowd  and  striking  them  with 
their  nagaikas  as  they  fled  in  all  directions,  some 
towards  us.  We  got  away  as  quickly  as  we  could, 
and  not  we  alone,  for  when  we  arrived  breathless 
at  the  market-place  the  thunder  of  cannon  was 
heard  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  and  we  saw  the 
sledge  horses  madly  careering  along,  though  the 
Moscow  coachmen  never  carry  whips.  It  was  said 
that  an  encounter  between  the  troops  and  the 
people  had  taken  place  at  the  Palace  of  the 
Governor-General,  that  artillery  was  sweeping 
the  streets,  and  that  hundreds  had  fallen. 

When  I  returned  to  the  hotel  it  was  one 
o'clock,  and  I  found  the  large  dining-room  full 
of  guests,  champagne  was  flowing,  and  the  band 
was  playing,  for  it  was  luncheon  time.  Nobody 
had  an  idea  of  what  had  taken  place.  But  it  was 
the  last  time  in  the  year  1905  that  the  guests  sat 
together  so  comfortably,  for  on  that  day  the 
dining-room  was  shut  and  the  French  band  was 
sent  home.  From  that  time  onwards  we  stood 
under  the  protection  of  the  Rostow  Grenadier 
Regiment  and  its  commander.  Colonel  Semanski, 
who,  with  his  staff,  had  taken  up  his  quarters  in 
the  hotel,  which  likewise  became  the  headquarters 
of  that  division  of  the  Moscow  garrison  entrusted 
with  the  defence  of  our  section  of  the  city.  The 
firing  of  cannon  lasted  all  through  the  afternoon 
and  far  into  the  night.     All  blinds  were  down 

154 


March  of  the  Revolutionists 

at  sunset,  the  heavy  plush  curtains  were  drawn 
together,  and  the  rooms  sparingly  lit  by  candles; 
for  the  electric  light  had  been  turned  off,  it  having 
been  evidently  feared  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  revolutionists  by  the  blazing  light  of  the  large 
chandeliers  in  the  hall  of  the  hotel. 

On  Friday,  December  22nd,  about  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  took  a  walk  through 
some  of  the  principal  streets.  This  was  the  first 
time  that  I  caught  sight  of  the  real  revolutionists, 
this  haunting  element  which  was  apparently  bent 
on  changing  the  old  autocratic  order  of  things 
and  causing  the  tide  of  "freedom"  to  roll  from 
the  Baltic  down  to  the  Caspian  Sea  and  far  beyond 
among  the  wild  hills  of  the  Caucasus. 

Through  the  Kufneski  Most,  where  the  finest 
shops  in  the  town  are  situated,  a  confused  multi- 
tude of  men  and  women  and  youths  surged.  Like 
a  living  sea  it  rose  and  fell.  The  crowd  whirled 
round  one  man  who  seemed  to  be  one  of  the  leaders 
of  the  revolutionists :  a  sturdy  fellow  with  dark 
hair,  whose  features  betokened  great  activity. 
He  wore  a  brown  overcoat  and  a  fur  cap,  and 
carried  a  walking-stick.  The  crowd  seemed  to 
take  their  instructions  from  him  and  to  obey  him 
at  a  wink.  They  absolutely  ignored  the  stray 
policemen  who  were  passing.  It  was  not  easy  to 
keep  this  man  in  sight.  At  one  moment  he 
disappeared  among  the  throng,  out  of  which 
he  emerged  again.  As  the  crowd  moved  on  it 
surged  towards  a  broad  side-street,  the  Neglinny 

155 


Things  I  Remember 

Prospect,  which  crosses  the  Kufneski  Most  at  a 
right  angle. 

As  I  contemplated  this  crowd  I  saw  from  a 
distance  the  tall  figure  of  a  young,  fair-haired 
police  officer  standing  alone  in  the  middle  of  the 
cross-road  and  towering  over  all.  He  made  a 
strikingly  handsome  appearance  as  he  stood  in  his 
grey  military  cloak  and  astrakhan  cap  where  the 
streets  met.  Like  a  vision  of  smiling  springtide 
he  seemed  in  his  exuberant  strength,  whilst  a  dark 
multitude  filled  the  pavement  on  all  four  sides 
with  their  pale  faces  and  half -developed  figures, 
in  which  one  recognised  the  real  proletariat  of 
the  city  :  workmen  of  the  intelligent  kind,  each 
with  his  pistol.  It  was  no  enviable  situation  of 
which  this  young  officer  was  the  centre,  for  a 
single  well-aimed  shot  would  have  sufficed  to  lay 
him  on  the  snow,  whilst  the  chance  of  arresting 
the  perpetrator  of  such  an  outrage  in  these 
circumstances  would  have  been  most  slender.  An 
uncanny  silence  added  to  the  tension  of  the  nerves 
of  the  onlookers.  Suddenly  twelve  policemen, 
armed  with  swords  and  pistols,  appeared  on  the 
scene.  They  wore  woollen  comforters  (bashliks) 
round  their  throats  for  protection  against  the 
terrible  cold.  They  marched  straight  up  to  the 
officer,  reported  themselves  to  him,  and  with  him 
marched  on  directly  towards  the  crowd  of  men, 
which,  with  their  leader  in  its  midst,  came  along 
the  pavement  straight  towards  them. 

"Will  they  dare  to  arrest  him  amidst  his 
156 


The  Guns  in  Readiness 

followers?"  "  Will  there  be  bloodshed?"  These 
are  the  quick  questions  of  an  instant  during  which 
you  could  almost  hear  your  heart  beat.  Much  to 
our  relief  we  saw  the  ofRcer  and  his  guard  pass 
through  the  crowd,  which  took  no  notice  of  them 
and  continued  its  movement  down  the  street  as 
if  nothing  unusual  were  taking  place.  At  that 
very  moment  a  division  of  dragoons  cantered  past 
on  steaming  horses.  Nothing  happened.  Not  a 
sound  from  any  side.  A  serious  encounter  was 
only  to  take  place  some  days  later  in  the  suburbs. 
When  I  got  up,  early  on  Saturday  morning 
— it  was  two  days  before  Christmas — and  went  to 
the  window,  an  unexpected  sight  met  my  eyes. 
A  battery  of  eight  guns  was  drawn  up  facing 
the  Imperial  Opera  House,  and  apparently  in 
full  readiness  for  battle.  The  artillerymen  stood 
beside  their  guns,  with  the  Town  Hall  in  their 
rear.  Rows  of  ammunition  were  piled  up  beside 
them,  and  still  a  little  farther  behind  stood  a 
group  of  officers  on  horseback,  guarded  on  each 
side  by  small  detachments  of  dragoons  and 
Cossacks.  Watch-fires  were  blazing  brightly  in 
different  places.  Everything  looked  ready  for 
an  immediate  fight.  Nevertheless  the  forenoon 
passed  without  incident ;  nothing  happened  except 
that  the  artillerymen  tried  alternately  to  warm 
themselves  at  the  watch-fire  against  the  piercing 
cold  and,  for  the  same  purpose,  indulged  in 
wrestling  matches  with  each  other.  Guns  could 
be  heard  in  the  distance.    In  the  course  of  the 

*5r 


Things  I  Remember 

afternoon  the  artillery  withdrew,  with  their  staff 
of  officers  and  their  cavalry  escort,  probably  to 
the  spot  where  fighting  was  actually  taking  place. 
The  theatre  square  was  now  empty.  Only  ravens 
remained  behind;  they  circled  round  and  round, 
cawing  high  up  in  the  air.  By  sunset  even  the 
watch-fires  had  died  out. 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day  all  the  rooms 
on  the  ground  floor  of  the  hotel  were  full  of 
police  and  soldiery,  amongst  them  officers  of  all 
arms,  including  Circassian  Guards,  which  latter 
circumstance  lent  probability  to  the  rumour  that 
the  newly  arrived  Governor-General,  Admiral 
Dubassow,  had  taken  refuge  in  the  hotel. 
Sentinels  were  stationed  everywhere;  visitors 
arriving  or  leaving  the  hotel  were  strictly  in- 
terrogated and  even  examined.  People  staying 
in  the  hotel  were  forbidden  to  remain  in  the 
hall;  they  were  ordered  to  retire  to  the  rear, 
near  the  lifts,  where  sentinels  were  also  posted 
with  drawn  bayonets. 

An  officer  of  the  Cossacks  attracted  my  atten- 
tion. With  his  curly  raven-black  beard,  his  dark 
fiery  eyes  and  slightly  Roman  nose  he  gave  one 
the  impression  of  a  Chaldean  king  of  primitive 
times.  He  remains  prominently  in  my  memory 
as  a  representative  of  those  frondeurs  who  form 
such  a  striking  feature  among  Russian  officers ; 
for  they  are  the  really  discontented,  not  the 
common  soldiers,  as  is  generally  believed  to  be 
the  case.     Reclining  leisurely,  with  the  nonchal- 

158 


An  Attack  In  Preparation 

ant  air  of  an  Eastern  potentate,  against  a  marble 
column,  he  conversed  with  the  visitors  of  the 
hotel,  he  discussed  the  events  of  the  day,  the 
fights  on  the  barricade,  etc.  He  did  not  praise 
the  deportment  of  the  troops,  but  that  of  the 
revolutionaries. 

Only  later  were  we  in  a  position  to  form  a 
correct  estimate  of  these  experiences.  They 
belong  to  the  pathological  phenomena  of  which 
the  Russian  disturbances  afford  us  so  many 
astonishing  instances  and  with  regard  to  which, 
many  years  ago,  a  German  writer  predicted 
strange  things  for  the  future,^  for,  as  it  ulti- 
mately proved,  the  revolutionaries  were  never  in 
a  position  to  come  forth  as  belligerents.  Not  a 
single  instance  of  fair  open  fight  took  place 
between  the  revolutionaries  and  infantry;  and,  as 
for  the  cavalry,  the  boulevards  had  been  made 
impassable  by  wire  fastened  across  the  road  and 
other  obstacles. 

But  on  this  particular  occasion  these  exag- 
gerated statements  made  a  certain  impression,  as 
they  coincided  with  the  news  that  120,000  revolu- 
tionists had  encircled  the  centre  of  the  city,  with 
the  military  in  it,  and  had  cut  off  our  provisions. 
At  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  we  suddenly 
saw  the  flashlights  of  reflectors  illuminating  the 
hotel  from  the  direction  of  the  market-place.  It 
was  said  that  the  revolutionists  were  preparing  an 
attack  on  the  market-place,  where  the  Butchers' 

*  "De  Moribus  Ruthenorum."    By  Victor  Hehn.    Stuttgart,  1892. 

159 


Things  I  Remember 

Guild  headquarters  were  situated.  During  the 
tumults  in  October,  at  the  time  of  the  Imperial 
manifesto,  the  Moscow  butchers  had  sided  with 
the  Government.  An  engagement  had  taken 
place,  and  between  thirty  and  forty  revolutionists 
— mostly  students — were  said  to  have  been  killed 
on  this  occasion,  amongst  them  the  German 
student  Baumann.  This,  we  were  told,  was  now 
to  be  avenged.  The  play  of  searchlights  lasted 
through  the  whole  evening.  I  went  to  bed  about 
half -past  nine,  and  soon  fell  asleep,  when  shortly 
after  eleven  o'clock  I  was  roused  by  a  loud  knock- 
ing at  my  door.  I  jumped  out  of  bed,  rushed 
to  the  door,  expecting  that  the  menaces  of  the 
revolutionists  had  become  true,  and  that  they 
had  forced  their  way  into  the  hotel.  A  strange 
gentleman  stood  before  me  and,  accosting  me  in 
French,  said:  "Sir,  get  up;  there  has  been  an 
explosion  and  the  hotel  is  on  fire !  But  don't  be 
afraid,  you  have  plenty  of  time  to  save  yourself." 
Outside  in  the  passages  and  on  the  stairs  every- 
thing was  pitch  dark,  the  electric  light  being  cut 
off.  I  felt  my  way  gropingly  down  the  staircase 
to  the  ground  floor,  where  the  hall  porter  sat 
solemnly  like  a  Russian  saint  in  his  box  beneath 
the  dim  light  of  two  candles.  About  a  hundred 
persons  were  gathered  in  the  hall,  some  visitors, 
others  officers,  and  we  were  told  that  a  magazine 
of  gunpowder  had  exploded  in  the  shop  which 
sold  firearms  in  the  basement  of  the  hotel,  and 
that  the  hotel  had  caught  fire.    Three  fire-engines 

i6o 


Revolutionaries  at  Work 

were  at  work.  I  went  out  and  looked  on  at 
this  spectacle  for  some  little  while.  The  firemen 
were  busy,  but — like  everything  Russian — silently 
at  work.  The  surrounding  houses  were  illuminated 
as  if  it  had  been  broad  daylight.  Fortunately, 
the  foundations  of  the  hotel  were  of  the  nature 
of  a  fortress,  and  one  could  see  that  the  volumes 
of  water  were  gradually  getting  the  mastery  of 
the  fire.  After  little  more  than  an  hour  the 
firemen,  with  the  three  fire-engines  and  appurten- 
ances, drove  away  in  all  quietness,  and  the  visitors 
retired  again  to  their  bedrooms  as  if  nothing  extra- 
ordinary had  happened. 

We  spent  Sunday,  the  24th  of  December,  in 
a  regular  state  of  warfare.  The  church  bells  call- 
ing us  to  prayer  alone  reminded  us  how  far  the 
actual  conditions  were  removed  from  and  in  con- 
trast to  the  ordinances  of  the  Prince  of  Peace 
The  thunder  of  cannon  was  audible  in  the  distance, 
and  in  close  proximity  the  revolutionists  were 
firing  out  of  the  windows  of  the  adjacent  houses. 
From  the  upper  storeys  of  the  hotel  we  could  see 
the  soldiers  advancing,  spread  out  in  their  lines, 
whilst  single  officers  stood  under  shelter  in  covered 
positions  in  the  street  or  sat  on  benches  in  the  hall 
of  the  hotel  conversing  with  ladies.  Altogether, 
the  fair  sex,  here  as  in  the  Manchurian  war,  played 
a  not  immaterial  part  in  the  proceedings.  The 
conditions  under  which  we  passed  our  time  during 
these  days  of  anxiety  grew  more  and  more  exciting 
and  arduous.     When  telephoning,  an  officer  and 

L  l6l 


Things  I  Remember 

a  soldier  with  fixed  bayonet  stood  behind  one, 
for  it  was  rumoured  that  the  telephone  had  been 
used  by  the  revolutionists.  Finally,  no  civihan 
was  allowed  the  use  of  the  telephone.  News- 
papers were  not  obtainable,  except  at  fancy  prices. 
A  number  of  the  Novoje  Vremya  cost  one  rouble. 

Repeated  sleigh  excursions  to  different  parts 
of  the  town,  and,  above  all,  to  the  outskirts, 
where  the  encounters  of  the  troops  and  the  revo- 
lutionists occurred,  enabled  me  to  draw  the  line 
between  the  imaginary  accounts  of  the  Press  and 
the  real  facts.  Only  towards  the  end  of  the  revolu- 
tion did  it  come  to  really  serious  destruction  of 
property  and  the  demolishing  of  whole  houses,  or 
rather  of  whole  factory  districts.  During  the  last 
days,  when  there  was  sufficient  provocation  for  it, 
severe  measures  were  employed,  when  the  soldiers 
were  much  irritated  by  the  constant  shooting  out 
of  the  houses ;  but,  as  a  rule,  they  acted  correctly 
— yes,  even  with  the  greatest  forbearance,  going 
little  beyond  making  prisoners  of  unwounded 
strikers,  who  for  many  days  had  been  shooting 
from  all  sorts  of  cover  on  the  soldiers,  and  par- 
ticularly on  the  police.  It  was  generally  remarked 
that  if  the  crushing  of  the  strike  had  been  en- 
trusted to  French  soldiers — as  happened  during 
the  Paris  Commune  in  1871 — whole  sections  of 
the  city  would  have  been  razed  to  the  ground  and 
thousands  of  people  slaughtered  without  mercy. 

On  my  visit  to  the  Presnie  quarter  I  found 
that  it  resembled  a  scene  from  the  migration  of 

162 


Wholesale  Deception 

nations  (Volkerwanderung).  The  struggle  was 
over.  The  soldiers  sat  quietly  at  the  watch-fires, 
poking  them  now  and  then  with  their  bayonets ; 
but  right  and  left  the  smoke  emerged  from  the 
ruins  of  the  factories,  endless  rows  of  wagons 
loaded  with  furniture  passed  by,  a  tremendous 
panic  had  taken  hold  of  the  inhabitants. 

These  terrible  days  in  Moscow  were  the  out- 
come of  a  cleverly  planned  system  of  deception  on 
a  large  scale,  for  the  majority  of  the  inhabitants 
w^ere  from  the  very  beginning  against  the  strike — 
even  the  majority  of  the  working  classes,  much 
as  they  had  sympathised  with  the  first  strike  in 
November.  The  movement  originated  with  a 
small  minority.  That  these  people  were  sincere, 
and  that  they  would  have  paid  for  their  views  even 
with  their  lives,  must  be  admitted.  The  fact 
remains  that  a  few  lawyers,  journalists,  engineers, 
doctors,  schoolmasters  and,  more  particularly, 
students  had,  after  they  and  their  ancestors  had 
been  waiting  for  a  new  Constitution  for  over  a 
hundred  years,  suddenly  made  up  their  minds 
that  they  were  quite  unable  to  wait  another  four 
weeks.  They  preferred  to  declare  war  on  society, 
and  bring  sorrows  and  material  losses  upon 
the  community.  By  public  addresses,  gratuitous 
distribution  of  pamphlets  and  manifestoes  they 
succeeded  in  acting  upon  the  credulity  of  the 
masses  and  influencing  and  terrorising  a  city  of 
over  a  million  inhabitants.  All  social  and 
economic  life  they  brought  to  a  standstill  against 

163 


Things  I  Remember 

the  will  of  the  majority  of  those  engaged  in  any 
active  business,  be  it  as  employer  or  worker.  The 
attempt  to  overpower  the  Government  ended  in 
a  pitiable  fiasco,  for,  in  spite  of  the  lying  machina- 
tions of  the  Press,  the  troops  remained  true. 

The  most  contradictory  rumours  concerning 
the  Moscow  events  were  circulated,  and  found 
ready  credence  abroad.  For  instance,  the  London 
newspapers  of  December  28th  put  the  number  of 
killed  and  wounded  at  from  15,000  to  20,000; 
German  papers  reproduced  these  statements ;  and 
' '  leaders ' '  were  written  in  different  countries 
based  upon  these  figments.  Even  on  the  spot 
people  of  otherwise  sober  judgment — amongst 
them  officers  and  bankers — maintained  that  there 
were  60,000  wounded  in  the  Moscow  hospitals, 
not  counting  those  who  were  nursed  in  private 
houses  by  the  strikers.  One  could  see  by  the 
official  reports  that  in  reality  the  total  number  of 
the  wounded  was  between  4,000  and  5,000,  whilst 
that  of  the  dead  did  not  exceed  200.  Of  both 
these  figures,  scarcely  50  applied  to  the  soldiery. 
Even  in  the  fights  at  Baku — which  were  much 
more  embittered — according  to  reliable  Consular 
reports,  only  198  people  were  killed.  In  Moscow 
the  fights  in  which  the  majority  of  the  casualties 
occurred  only  took  place  subsequently  to  the  28th 
of  December,  that  is,  after  the  above-mentioned 
sensational  newspaper  reports. 

On  January  2nd  (new  style)  work  was  again 
resumed  in  some  of  the  large  factories,  whilst  the 

164 


In  Straits 

dead  victims  of  the  fights  which  had  taken  place 
in  the  streets  were  still  lying,  piled  up  like  frozen 
logs  of  wood,  in  the  courtyards  of  the  police 
stations  waiting  for  identification  before  burial. 

The  Russian  Christmas  drew  nigh.  It  was 
the  6th  of  January,  1906 — thus,  according  to  the 
Russian  calendar,  Christmas  Eve — the  last  night 
I  intended  to  spend  in  Moscow.  I  had  ordered 
a  frugal  meal  in  my  bedroom,  but  the  waiter 
laconically  said :  "  Nothing  to  eat.  Cooks  all 
gone.  Christmas !  Nothing  to  drink.  Manager 
gone  away,  and  taken  wine-cellar  keys."  It  was 
in  vain  that  I  addressed  myself  to  the  head- waiter, 
a  Russianised  Austrian.  At  last  I  was  told  that, 
as  a  great  exception  in  my  favour,  everything 
possible  would  be  done.  I  was  only  to  have 
patience.    My  reward  was — a  bottle  of  beer ! 

During  these  strenuous  days  and  exciting 
nights  I  met,  as  I  have  said,  some  of  the  most 
prominent  men  in  the  movement  which  was  then 
convulsing  Russia.  The  sittings  of  the  Zemstvo 
Congress  had  terminated  on  Saturday,  Novem- 
ber 25th,  the  day  before  I  arrived.  The  next 
evening,  two  hours  after  my  arrival,  I  was  closeted 
with  Prince  Trubetzkoi,  in  the  study  of  Prince 
Sherbatoff  in  Nikitky  Street,  where  the  former 
had  taken  up  his  abode  during  the  sittings  of 
the  Congress.  Among  the  few  Russian  names 
from  whom  the  friends  of  Russia  expected  great 
things  during  this  critical  period,  that  of  Prince 
Trubetzkoi   stood   in   the   front  rank.     The   late 

165 


Things  I  Remember 

Prince  Sergius  Trubetzkoi  was  the  first  of  the 
grandees  of  the  Russian  Empire  who  had  dared 
to  declare  openly  to  the  Tsar  that  matters  could 
not  possibly  continue  as  hitherto,  and  that  radical 
reforms  were  absolutely  needed.  By  standing  up 
for  the  welfare  of  the  country  he  gained  a  unique 
position  in  the  heart  of  the  people.  His  photo- 
graph was  to  be  seen  in  every  print-shop  window 
in  Moscow. 

As  I  saw  him  that  night,  in  a  room  adorned 
by  paintings  from  the  easels  of  Lenbach,  Franz 
Stuck  and  Alphonse  de  Neuville  (the  great 
French  battle  painter),  he  was  a  tall,  imposing 
man,  with  dark  eyes  and  dark  hair,  still  in  the 
prime  of  life.  He  had  something  of  the  typical 
aristocratic  Russian  about  him,  and  in  this  he 
reminded  me  of  others  whom  I  had  already  met 
in  different  capitals.  The  family  of  Trubetzkoi 
ranks  with  the  highest  Russian  nobility,  Sherem- 
tieff,  Dolgorukov,  Galitzin,  Gagarin,  Bariatinsky 
and  others.  To  all  appearances  he  was  one  of 
those  to  whom  high  birth  was  an  incitement  to 
intellectual  endeavour  and  distinction. 

We  talked  of  the  then  condition  of  things, 
and  I  recall  his  insistence  upon  a  sharp  line  being 
drawn  between  the  Liberal  section,  which  he 
represented,  and  the  extremists,  whom  he  believed 
to  be  clamouring  for  things  which  it  was  impossible 
to  concede  in  the  then  condition  of  Russia.  We 
discussed,  too,  PoUsh  autonomy,  of  which  he  was 
in  favour.     "  There  will  be  no  peace  in  Poland," 

1 66 


Alexander  GutschkofF 

he  said,  ''  until  the  people  have  some  form  of 
autonomy."  He  dealt  gravely  upon  the  existing 
crisis  in  Russia.  It  was  the  beginning  of  the 
deepest  social  revolution  in  the  history  of  man- 
kind. ''A  return  to  the  past  is  impossible,"  he 
said  with  energy,  while  deploring  some  of  the 
excesses  which  had  marked  the  birth  of  the  new 
spirit  of  the  people. 

If  Prince  Trubetzkoi  represented  the  old 
Russian  aristocracy  in  the  general  demand  for 
reform,  Alexander  Gutschkoff  was  the  spokesman 
of  the  educated  commercial  middle-class,  whose 
small  influence  during  the  crisis,  due  partly  to 
their  limited  number,  was  much  to  be  regretted., 
Alexander  Gutschkoff  is  the  son  of  a  rich  Moscow 
manufacturer,  and  has  several  brothers.  An  elder 
brother  sat  with  him  in  the  Congress  of  the 
Zemstvos,  and  had  since  become  the  Mayor  of 
Moscow.  But  Alexander  was  the  prominent  man 
of  the  moment,  as  is  shown  more  or  less  by  the 
fact  that  Count  Witte  had  only  recently  offered 
him  a  Minister's  portfolio.  Gutschkoff,  however, 
declined  this  because,  as  he  told  me,  he  thought 
he  could  be  of  more  use  to  his  country  in  his 
unfettered  position. 

Although  still  on  the  sunny  side  of  the 
forties,  Alexander  Gutschkoff  had  already  had  a 
remarkable  career.  After  having  studied  poUtical 
economy  in  Berlin  under  Professor  Schmoller, 
and  Roman  and  Greek  History  in  Tubingen,  he 
seriously  contemplated  for  some  time  becoming  a 

167 


Things  I  Remember 

professor ;  but  his  interest  in  the  poKtical  situation 
in  his  country  drew  him  away  from  his  studies. 
In  the  year  1891  Gutschkoff  was  sent  to  the 
district  of  Nischni-Novgorod  to  investigate  the 
causes  of  the  famine.  During  his  stay  there  he 
did  all  in  his  power  to  combat  the  abuses  which 
partly  caused  that  visitation.  In  the  year  1892, 
during  the  cholera  epidemic,  he  was  again  on  the 
banks  of  the  Volga,  and  in  the  same  year  he 
was  elected  to  the  town  council  of  his  native 
place,  Moscow,  and  for  three  years  was  an  active 
member.  In  1895  he  undertook  a  journey  through 
Asiatic  Turkey  to  study  the  Armenian  question 
on  the  spot;  and  in  1897  he  was  in  Manchuria, 
where  he  accompanied  General  Kuropatkin  as  an 
officer  of  Cossacks,  and  remained  there  a  whole 
year.  But  even  the  immense  extent  of  the 
Russian  dominions  did  not  afford  sufficient  scope 
for  the  restless  spirit  of  Gutschkoff.  Shortly  after 
the  outbreak  of  the  Boer  War  he  was  fighting 
against  the  English  in  South  Africa,  under  the 
guerilla  leader,  Daniel  Theron,  and  was  badly 
wounded  at  Lindley  and  taken  prisoner.  On  his 
giving  his  word  of  honour  not  to  take  up  arms 
again.  General  Kitchener  allowed  him  to  return 
to  Russia.  His  wound  having  rendered  him  unfit 
for  further  military  service,  he  acted  as  general 
delegate  of  Moscow  for  the  Red  Cross  Society 
during  the  Russo-Japanese  War. 

I  asked  Gutschkoff  what  he  thought  of  the 
terrible    events    at    Sebastopol — the    mutiny    of 

1 68 


Prince  Paul  Dolgorukow 

the  sailors  on  board  the  Russian  warships.  He 
replied  :  "  1  do  not  believe  there  will  be  either 
a  military  or  a  naval  revolution,  but  I  do  expect 
to  see  a  number  of  naval  and  military  outbreaks 
brought  about  more  or  less  by  interested  parties, 
besides  strikes  and  other  disturbances,  many  of 
which  we  have  already  witnessed.  And,  strange 
as  this  may  appear,  I  do  not  deplore  it,  as  these 
excesses  will  inevitably  bring  fresh  adherents  to 
the  only  party  through  whom  the  situation  can 
be  saved  and  the  future  safeguarded.  This  is  the 
party  of  moderate  constitutionalists,  which  is  as 
much  opposed  to  the  threatening  social  revolution 
as  it  is  imbued  with  the  conviction  that  Russia 
cannot  possibly  go  back  again  to  autocracy." 

Another  figure  whom  I  met  at  this  time  was 
Prince  Paul  Dolgorukow,  whom  I  visited  at  his 
palace,  which  bears  the  name  of  his  deceased 
uncle,  Orloff  Davidoff.  Here  the  Zemstvo  Con- 
gress had  held  most  of  its  sittings.  The  Prince, 
if  I  remember  rightly,  was  Marshal  of  the  Moscow 
nobility,  and  one  of  those  Russian  grand  seigneurs 
who  are  firmly  convinced  of  the  growing  impossi- 
bility of  the  hitherto  autocratic  system.  He  had 
taken  part  in  a  deputation  which  had  expressed 
this  conviction  personally  to  the  Tsar.  Prince 
Dolgorukow  gave  me  the  impression  of  being 
more  of  an  amiable  man  of  the  world,  who  spends 
his  time  by  preference  in  Italy  and  Paris,  than  of 
a  serious  politician ;  but,  nevertheless,  he  was  above 
the  class  prejudices  of  his  caste.    He  told  me  with 

169 


Things  I  Remember 

a  certain  frank  satisfaction  that  he  stood  on  a  very 
good  footing  with  the  peasants  on  his  estates,  and 
when  in  the  country  had  taken  the  chair  at  any 
meeting  held  by  the  small  citizens  in  his  district ; 
thus,  in  effect,  playing  the  part  which  Alexander 
Gutschkoff  had  assigned  to  the  Russian  grandees 
and  which  the  great  landowners  in  England  have 
so  long  filled.  What  struck  me  in  him,  as  in 
many  other  Russian  nobles  I  have  met,  was  his 
great  amiability.  I  noticed  that  when  leaving  he 
shook  hands  cordially  with  my  interpreter  from 
the  hotel. 

Christmas  Day  dawned.  A  German-Russian 
friend  asked  me  by  telephone  to  dinner.  I 
explained  that  I  was  booked  to  leave  Moscow 
in  the  afternoon,  and  could  not  possibly  combine 
the  two.  He  replied  that  he  would  arrange 
matters  by  altering  the  dinner  hour,  and  would 
fetch  me  from  the  hotel  in  his  sleigh  and  also 
bring  me  back  in  the  same  way  in  time  to  catch 
the  train  to  Warsaw.  He  called  for  me  at  the 
hotel  in  his  sleigh  at  midday.  When  he  arrived 
at  his  house  I  heard  that  he  gave  orders  to  his 
coachman  —  a  pompous-looking  fellow  in  blue, 
thickly  wadded,  Tartar  fur,  with  a  silver  belt  and 
fur- trimmed  velvet  cap — to  be  ready  in  two  hours' 
time  to  drive  me  back  to  the  hotel. 

The  time  passed  quickly,  and  I  had  to  think 
of  my  departure.  I  rose  from  table  to  take  my 
leave,  and  was  accompanied  to  the  front  door. 
The    stable   door  was  visible   on   the   right.     A 

170 


My  "Copy"  is  Held  Up 

splendid  black  horse  of  unusual  dimensions  peered 
with  flashing  eyes  in  the  doorway.  He  was  ready 
harnessed  to  the  sleigh,  only  the  driver  was  miss- 
ing. We  waited  in  vain.  A  manservant  whis- 
pered something  in  the  ear  of  my  host.  The 
splendid  coachman  lay  in  the  stable  fast  asleep-^ 
dead  drunk !  I  had  not  a  moment  to  lose.  I 
rushed  out  into  the  road,  and  was  fortunate 
enough  to  espy  an  empty  sleigh.  I  reached,  in 
turn,  the  hotel,  the  station  and  the  train,  and  a 
few  minutes  later  Moscow  had  vanished  from  view 
in  the  haze  of  a  cold  winter  afternoon. 

The  essence  of  the  above  was  jotted  down 
shortly  after  I  left  Moscow,  and  never  appeared 
in  the  Herald,  for,  as  already  stated,  I  was  cut 
off  from  the  outer  world  during  the  whole  stay  in 
that  city  by  the  postal  and  telegraph  strike. 
Thus,  except  a  few  hurried  contributions  forwarded 
by  the  kindness  of  a  Moscow  banking  house  by 
special  courier  to  Petrograd,  I  was  only  able  to 
give  the  Herald,  in  return  for  all  the  expense 
incurred,  one  brief  telegram  expressing  my  con- 
victions— in  opposition  to  the  general  opinion 
expressed  at  the  time  by  the  majority  of  European 
newspapers — that  the  revolutionary  movement  was 
a  fraud  and  was  collapsing. 

Reviewing  my  Moscow  experiences  and  im- 
pressions after  the  lapse  of  years,  also  by  the  light 
of  subsequent  events,  a  few  additional  impressions 
and  items  come  home  to  me.    In  the  first  place  I 

171 


Things  I  Remember 

was  lastingly  impressed  by  the  generous  spirit  of 
brotherhood  I  found  among  the  Russians  of  all 
classes.  As  foreigners  or  strangers,  we  are  all 
familiar  with  tales  of  the  tyranny  of  an  autocratic 
regime  and  the  corruption  of  an  ill-paid  bureau- 
cracy, nor  do  I  for  one  moment  pretend  that 
these  things  are  non-existent;  but  what  my  con- 
tact with  the  people  of  Moscow  brought  home  to 
me  was  that  they  are  wonderfully  tempered  by 
certain  features  of  patriarchal  social  conditions 
and,  above  all,  by  the  general  character  of  the 
Russian  people.  Thus  in  Russian  families  I 
noticed  repeatedly  that  the  relations  between 
master,  mistress  and  the  servants  were  little  short 
of  those  one  would  expect  to  find  in  a  large 
family.  This  explains  how  it  was  possible  that 
during  the  whole  of  that  critical  period,  in  which 
many  people  lost  their  lives,  I  do  not  believe 
there  was  one  case  of  actual  starvation.  Further, 
although  all  business  was  practically  at  a  stand- 
still, no  letters  being  delivered  and  over  60,000 
registered  packages  lying  for  weeks  undelivered  at 
the  post  office,  not  a  single  bankruptcy  of  any 
note  took  place  during  my  stay. 


172 


CHAPTER   XII 

BERLIN   DURING   THE   ALGECIRAS   CONFERENCE 

I  ARRIVED  in  Berlin  from  Moscow  on  the  9th  of 
January,  1906,  with  instructions  to  remain  there 
to  represent  the  Herald  during  the  Algeciras 
Conference.  I  called  at  once  on  Prince  Biilow, 
who  invited  me  to  dinner  for  the  following  day. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  the  Chancellor 
discussed  the  probable  German  attitude  at  the 
approaching  Algeciras  Conference,  and  left  it 
to  me  to  draw  up  a  short  report  to  send  to  the 
Herald.  This  I  did,  after  first  sending  the  draft 
next  morning  for  his  approval.  I  append  a  copy 
as  it  appeared  in  the  Herald  (January  12th, 
1906) : 

"  Berlin.  Thursday.  Prince  von  Biilow  left 
here  for  Rome  this  evening.  I  saw  him  before 
leaving,  and  he  authorised  me  to  make  the  follow- 
ing communication  to  the  Herald :  '  Neither  His 
Majesty  the  Kaiser  nor  anybody  else  in  Germany 
dreams  of  exercising  the  slightest  pressure  upon 
France  at  the  expense  of  French  national  dignity 
at  the  Conference,  where  there  should  be  neither 
vainqueurs  nor  vaincus.  Germany  stands  for 
equality  of  opportunity  in  the  trade  of  Morocco, 

1/3 


Things  I  Remember 

the  open  door  for  all  nations  alike,  and  if  this 
principle  be  accepted  by  others  the  Conference  is 
expected  to  have  a  successful  issue.  Germany 
seeks  no  advantages  which  ^re  not  to  be  shared  by 
all  alike.'" 

My  task  consisted  in  caUing  at  the  Wilhelm- 
strasse  in  the  course  of  the  forenoon,  looking  up 
persons  of  position,  ambassadors,  ministers,  con- 
ferring with  professors  dabbling  in  journalism,, 
besides  bona  fide  journalists,  for  the  latter  occupied 
a  much  more  influential  position  than  is  generally 
supposed.  The  Berlin  correspondent  of  the  Frank- 
furter Zeitung,  for  instance,  would  hold  a  regular 
levee  at  his  office  and  in  the  evening  at  the  Kaiser- 
hof,  at  which  a  number  of  representative  persons 
were  to  be  met.  In  the  afternoon  I  received  a 
report  from  the  assistant  correspondent  whom  Mr. 
Bennett  had  placed  at  my  disposal,  and  in  the 
evening  I  dispatched  to  Paris  a  summary  of  the 
matter  gleaned. 

This  was  the  longest  stay  I  had  ever  made  in 
the  Prussian  capital,  and  it  was  coincident  with 
my  gradual  awakening  to  the  apprehension  that  a 
country  with  which  I  had  been  connected  by  close 
ties,  where  I  had  spent  my  happiest  days,  and  had 
been  welcomed  as  a  friend  by  eminent  statesmen, 
men  of  letters  and  learning,  was  drifting  into 
an  attitude  of  irreconcilable  antagonism  to  the 
country  of  my  birth.  I  had  long  been  aware  that 
for  many  years  past  an  irresponsible  influence 
had  been  working  mischief  in  Germany,  one  such 

174 


•  •     •        •  •  , 


I* 

PQ 

z 

o 

> 

Q 

< 

X 

z 

06 
uj 
CQ 

a 
U 

Z 


Undermining  Germany 

as  is  made  familiar  to  us  in  Goethe's  Zauber- 
lehrling :  the  wizard's  apprentice  who  plays  ducks 
and  drakes  with  the  wand  of  the  absent  master. 
Many  people  were  cognisant  of  the  nature  of  this 
influence,  and  only  wondered  that  there  could  be 
anybody  left  who  failed  to  perceive  the  dangerous 
possibilities,  for  its  main  characteristics  were  an 
absolute  lack  of  the  sense  of  humour  and  a 
shallow  surface  estimate  of  the  most  vital  of 
things  :  namely,  those  that  appeal  to  the  heart 
and  the  more  refined  instincts  of  man,  that  which 
constitutes  his  soul.  Verily  the  enunciations 
trumpeted  forth  day  by  day  upon  a  long-suffer- 
ing world  could  only  be  based  upon  a  most 
superficial  knowledge  of  the  fundamental  charac- 
ter of  man  and  his  spiritual  and  aesthetic  nature, 
which  was  mocked,  flouted  and  derided  day  by  day. 
Many  Germans,  as  well  as  sundry  foreign  friends 
of  Germany,  were  alive  to  this  dangerous  element ; 
but  they  thought  so  highly  of  the  Germans  as  a 
sane  and  peace-loving  race  that  they  felt  confident 
that  in  a  case  of  emergency  the  people  would  pull 
up  the  irrepressible  talker  in  time.  This  view  was 
subsequently  fortified  by  the  drastic  action  of  the 
Reichstag  over  the  Daily  Telegraph  interview; 
alas !  the  present  war  has  shown  it  to  have  been 
delusive.  What  Germany's  friends  did  not  realise 
was  that  superficiality,  arrogance  and  vulgarity 
are  in  strict  consonance  with  the  spirit  of  surface 
education  (Halbbildung)  of  our  time,  and  that  its 
brazen,  shameless  effrontery,  its  shallow  cynicism 

175 


Things  I  Remember 

and  the  dense,  bucolic  shortsightedness  which 
made  it  appeal  to  the  half -educated  element 
throughout  the  world. 

It  would  serve  no  useful  purpose  to  dwell  at 
length  upon  the  unheeded  remonstrances  which 
emanated  from  time  to  time  from  among  the 
unaffected,  clear-sighted  minority,  and  it  would 
lead  too  far  to  enumerate  the  many  warnings  pre- 
dicting disaster,  one  of  the  last  and  most  significant 
of  which  came  from  Bebel,  the  great  Socialist 
leader. 

These  things  are  naturally  submerged  to-day 
in  the  all-absorbing  passions  aroused  by  the  war. 
But  how  educated  people,  who  should  be  con- 
versant with  Continental  affairs,  can  trouble  their 
heads  to-day  over  the  writings  of  Frederick  the 
Great,  Kant,  Fichte  or  Hegel,  in  order  to  fix  the 
responsibility  for  the  present  war,  may  well  pass 
our  comprehension.  Few  men  could  have  been 
more  conversant  with  German  political  literature 
of  the  past  than  Bismarck,  but  he  took  little 
note  of  them  except  when  he  wished  to  emphasise 
the  vast  changes  which  time  had  brought  about. 
His  constant  warnings  are  directed  against  the 
danger  of  the  personal  vanity  on  the  part  of 
the  monarch,  and  the  unripeness  of  the  German 
political  character :  a  point  since  repeatedly  en- 
dorsed and  emphasised  by  his  successor,  Prince 
Billow.  Everything  that  has  since  taken  place 
goes  to  demonstrate  that  at  one  time  the  Emperor 
undoubtedly  possessed   the   power  to  direct  and 

176 


Dangerous  Political  Conditions 

control  the  German  people,  if  only  he  had  been 
able  to  subdue  himself! 

Brave  conquerors, — for  so  you  are, 
That  war  against  your  own  affections^ 
And  the  huge  army  of  the  world's  desires. 

(Love's  Labour's  Lost.) 

Nearly  everywhere  I  went  in  BerHn  I  met 
fear  and  anxiety  as  to  the  drift  of  things,  some 
pregnant  instances  of  which  I  have  already  given 
in  several  contributions  to  the  Fortnightly  Review, 
nearly  two  years  ago  and  previously.  One  of  the 
most  eminent  members  of  the  Prussian  Govern- 
ment, Count  Posadowsky,  the  Minister  of  the 
Interior,  was  among  these  pessimists.  He  it 
was  who  coined  the  significant  phrase  of  "  Die 
Verausserlichung  idealer  Werthe,"  i.e.  the  vul- 
garisation of  ideal  values  :  those  to  which  the  best 
results  of  the  past  had  in  the  main  been  due. 
Such  a  man  was,  of  course,  inconvenient,  and  was 
shortly  afterw^ards  got  rid  of. 

Hard  things  have  been  said  about  the  officials 
of  the  Wilhelmstrasse,  accusations  which  in  most 
instances  ought  to  have  been  addressed  to  higher 
and  more  responsible  sources.  But  nothing  I  have 
ever  heard  brought  conviction  more  thoroughly 
home  to  me  of  the  dangerous  political  conditions 
prevailing  in  Germany  than  what  one  could  con- 
fidentially learn  within  its  very  walls!  The  late 
Herr  von  Holstein,  the  evil  genius  of  Prussian 
diplomacy,  used  to  show  newspaper  cuttings  to 
his  friends — many  of  them  from  EngUsh  news- 

M  177 


Things  I  Remember 

papers — on  the  margin  of  which  the  Emperor  had 
scribbled  his  comments,  some  of  which  were 
scarcely  of  an  edifying  nature. 

"It  is  the  misfortune  of  our  diplomacy,"  one 
of  the  ablest  of  the  official  wire-pullers  assured  me, 
"  that  we  either  fall  round  peoples'  neck  or  kick 
them  in  the  stomach.  Things  are  not  what  they 
'used  to  be  under  our  old  Prince  Bismarck.  It 
is  no  longer  a  pleasure  to  be  connected  with 
pohtics."  The  staff  seemed  to  live  in  perpetual 
fear  of  the  unexpected,  for  the  evil  consequences 
of  which,  as  they  well  knew,  they  would  be  made 
Ihe  scapegoats,  as  so  strikingly  shown  subsequently 
in  the  case  of  the  Daily  Telegraph  interview. 
The  intimacy  of  the  Emperor  with  Herr  Ballin 
was  mentioned  in  my  presence  one  day,  and 
it  provoked  the  following  significant  comment : 
''  You  may  rest  assured  that  the  friendship  of  our 
Emperor  will  cost  Herr  Ballin  as  dear  as  it  has 
cost  everybody  else  thus  honoured."  To-day  the 
Hamburg- American  Line,  over  which  he  presides, 
is  in  an  unenviable  position. 

As  regards  journalism,  it  is  as  well  to  rectify 
an  error  widely  prevalent  that  the  whole  German 
Press  at  that  time  blindly  and  uniformly  accepted 
its  views  from  the  Government.  The  Berliner 
Tagehlatt,  for  one,  strongly  opposed  the  official 
attitude  during  the  Algeciras  Conference.  A  high 
Government  official  mentioned  this  matter  to  me 
one  day  and,  knowing  that  I  was  on  amicable 
terms  with  its  proprietor,  suggested  that  I  should 

178 


Some  Vertebrate  Journalists 

speak  to  him  confidentially  on  the  subject.  This 
I  did,  and  the  answer  which  he  gave  me,  in  perfect 
good  temper,  is  worth  recalling  :  "  You  may  tell 
them  that  they  have  not  got  enough  money  in  the 
Reichsbank  to  induce  the  Berliner  Tagehlatt  to 
deviate  from  its  present  attitude."  It  is  only  fair, 
however,  to  add  that,  being  a  very  wealthy  man 
himself,  Herr  Rudolf  Mosse  was  well  able  to  afford 
this  exhibition  of  independence.  But  he  was  for 
long  honestly  and  fearlessly  intent  on  preserving 
peace  and  concord  between  nations,  notably  with 
England  and  France,  and  complained  bitterly  to 
me  of  the  vicious  attitude  of  his  London  corre- 
spondent towards  England.  Many  of  the  latter 's 
communications  were,  in  consequence,  suppressed, 
and  that  correspondent  was  subsequently  relieved 
of  his  functions  and  pensioned  off.  Nor  was  Herr 
Mosse  the  only  influential  journalist  who  saw 
''black"  in  the  future  and  refused  to  budge  to 
please.  The  Berlin  representatives  of  at  least  two 
other  important  German  newspapers  were  scarcely 
less  obdurate,  and  declined  to  be  hypnotised  by 
the  sirenic  attractions  of  Ministerial  dinner  invita- 
tions. One  high-minded  journalist  in  particular 
was  a  thorn  in  the  official  side,  for  he  could  not 
be  induced  to  trim  his  sails  in  accordance  with  the 
wind  prevailing  in  august  quarters.  One  day  he 
said  to  me  :  "  If  you  publish  what  you  know  about 
the  deplorable  state  of  our  affairs,  you  will  never 
be  able  to  come  to  Germany  again."  Prince 
Billow  himself  admitted  to  me  that  he  could  do 

179 


Things  I  Remember 

nothing  with  this  chunk  of  independent  integrity, 
who  Uved  in  a  modest  apartment  in  which  almost 
the  only  ornament  was  a  bust  by  Donatello  on 
the  top  of  his  bookcase,  and  whose  only  companion 
in  his  solitary  walks  was  a  poodle.  Such  a  com- 
panion at  least  could  not  tempt  him  to  be  untrue 
to  his  convictions. 

The  appointment  of  the  late  Count  Helmuth 
von  Moltke  to  be  Chief  of  the  General  Staff  fell 
in  this  period,  and  excited  a  deal  of  comment.  I 
had  known  him  personally  since  the  year  1889,  and 
knew  enough  of  him  and  his  career  to  understand 
the  prevaihng  misgivings.  A  kindly,  honest, 
chivalrous  man,  happily  married  to  a  beautiful 
Danish  lady — a  Countess  Moltke — but  one  of  the 
last  persons  to  be  credited  with  the  clear  brain 
and  steel  nerve  of  a  Moltke.  As  Major  Helmuth 
von  Moltke  he  had  been  attached  for  several  years 
to  his  uncle,  the  great  strategist,  as  his  personal 
aide-de-camp,  and  remained  in  that  position  after 
the  latter 's  retirement  down  to  his  death.  But 
the  berth,  although  little  more  than  a  sinecure, 
was  not  altogether  a  pleasant  one,  for  the  old 
man  was  an  uncompromising  enemy  of  every 
form  of  nepotism,  even  when  it  was  for  his  own 
benefit,  so  that  he  resented  in  a  way  the  trifling 
mark  of  favour  bestowed  upon  him  by  being 
allowed  to  retain  a  personal  aide-de-camp,  and 
now  and  then  his  nephew  had  to  suffer,  in  con- 
sequence from  his  ill-humour. 

One  day  I  mentioned  to  Prince  Biilow  what  I 
i8o 


Misgivings  of  the  Future 

had  heard  about  this  appointment — that  it  was  a 
fad  of  the  Emperor  and  not  justified  by  Moltke's 
ability.  Prince  Biilow  did  not  directly  deny  the 
justification  of  these  criticisms.  He  replied  that 
the  post  of  Chief  of  the  Staff  did  not  neces- 
sarily call  for  exceptional  ability — all  that  was 
required  was  nerve.  This  he  saw  Helmuth  von 
Moltke  possessed,  and  others  would  supply  the 
brains.  We  have  since  seen  the  outcome  :  prema- 
ture retirement  and  sudden  death ;  from  a  broken 
heart,  I  should  say. 

General  von  Verdy  du  Vernois,  whom  I  had 
known  since  1890,  when  he  was  Prussian  Minister 
of  War,  was  one  of  many  whose  mind  was  filled 
with  dire  apprehension  regarding  the  drift  of 
things.  These  he  expressed  to  me  quite  openly 
one  day.  During  our  conversation  his  son  came 
into  the  room.  He  had  been  Military  Attache  at 
Constantinople,  and  was  now  supposed  to  be  act- 
ing in  the  same  capacity  at  Washington.  A  very 
different  sort  of  man  from  his  distinguished  father, 
he  struck  one  as  a  typical  representative  of  the 
new  ^' swelled-head "  generation.  "How  is  it 
that  you  are  here?"  I  asked  him.  "Oh,"  he 
replied,  "I'm  only  here  incognito."  "I  do  not 
quite  understand  you,"  I  rejoined.  "  The  term 
incognito  I  take  to  apply  to  those  whose  distin- 
guished position  is  such  that  their  presence,  if 
known,  would  subject  them  to  undesirable  atten- 
tion." 

The  expression  of  extreme  annoyance  on  the 
i8i 


Things  I  Remember 

countenance  of  the  young  gentleman's  father  was 
indeed  a  study. 

Under  the  then  prevaihng  conditions  it  was 
only  natural  that  the  personality  of  the  Emperor 
should  be  the  beginning  and  end  of  almost  every 
topic  of  conversation.  His  photograph  stared 
from  every  second  shop-window,  his  plaster  bust 
met  one  in  every  beer-house,  his  full-length 
portrait  in  oils  was  on  the  wall  of  every  hotel  with 
any  claim  to  a  fashionable  clientele.  The  status 
of  individuals  was  measured  by  their  relation  to 
the  Emperor.  The  question  was,  "  Are  you  one 
of  those  who  has  been  received  by  the  Emperor?" 
or,  highest  earthly  bUss,  "  Are  you  one  of  the 
Emperor's  friends  or  advisers?  Have  you  met 
the  Emperor?"  ''No."  "  Well,  then,  what  do 
you  know  about  the  greatest  man  of  our  age, 
the  key-note  of  whose  conduct  is  chivalrous 
enthusiasm?" 

Some  few  were  of  a  different  opinion.  A  lady 
— since  deceased — a  brilliant  authoress  of  extra- 
ordinary mental  acumen  and  strength  of  character, 
who  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  more  than  one 
Royal  Family,  said  to  me  : 

"  I  can  assure  you  that  he  extirpates,  as  of  fell 
purpose,  every  independent  character,  root  and 
branch.  Think  of  the  number  of  poor  devils  in 
prison  for  the  crime  of  lese  majeste,  not  one 
instance  of  which  has  he  ever  pardoned;  whilst 
there  is  not  a  case  of  a  man  having  killed  his 
opponent  in  a  duel,   however  disgraceful  might 

182 


The  German  Press 

have  been  its  cause,  whom  he  has  not  pardoned 
or  at  least  remitted  the  sentence.  Never  has  a 
monarch  encouraged  Byzantine  servility  to  such  a 
degree  as  this  man.  No  sunbeam  but  it  must 
radiate  from  him ;  no  incense  but  it  must  fill  his 
nostrils.    He  monopolises  everything." 

To  the  stranger  a  remarkable  feature  of  that 
particular  time  was  the  number  of  patriotic 
meetings,  dinners  and  festivals,  accompanied  by 
extravagant  glorifications  of  the  House  of  Hohen- 
zollern,  reported  in  certain  newspapers.  But 
among  people  in  a  position  which  would  have 
made  their  prosecution  inconvenient  you  hardly 
ever  heard  a  good  word  said  of  the  Emperor. 
The  scurrilous  Munich  Simplicissimus  lampooned 
him  as  a  hare  running  a  race  with  his  uncle.  King 
Edward,  depicted  as  a  hedgehog,  in  which  the 
hedgehog  wins.  But  even  more  ominous  :  Maxi- 
milian Harden's  vitriolic  Zukunft  was  in  the  hands 
of  everybody.  The  very  highest  lived  in  fear  of 
its  expectorations.  It  was  the  only  printed  matter 
on  the  writing-table  at  the  British  Embassy  when 
I  had  a  talk  with  the  British  Ambassador,  Sir 
Frank  Lascelles. 

Prince  Biilow,  who  had  always  shown  me  the 
greatest  kindness,  surprised  me  one  day  by  an 
offer  to  present  me  to  the  Emperor.  In  thank- 
ing him  for  what  was  obviously  intended  as  a  high 
personal  compliment,  I  replied  that  I  was  afraid 
it  might  prejudice  my  activity  as  correspondent  of 
the  Herald,  and  that  therefore  I  deemed  it  best 

183 


Things  I  Remember 

to  forgo  an  opportunity  which  doubtless  would 
have  been  a  source  of  personal  gratification.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  I  had  long  formed  an  unfavour- 
able opinion  of  the  Emperor  as  a  public  character, 
of  which  1  had  never  made  a  secret  in  con- 
versation, and  I  did  not  think  it  quite  honest  to 
accept  what  could  only  be  construed  as  a  personal 
distinction  with  such  an  arriere-pensee,  the  less 
so  as,  after  an  acceptance,  I  should  have  con- 
sidered myself  precluded  from  dealing  frankly 
with  one  whose  exalted  position  made  him  a 
legitimate  subject  for  discussion  by  a  political 
writer.  One  can  have  little  sympathy  with  those 
who  were  weak  enough  to  bow  down  and  worship, 
and  now  have  no  terms  too  severe  to  stigmatise 
their  discarded  idol.  Silence  should  surely  be  the 
only  course  prescribed  in  such  cases. 

One  morning,  whilst  I  was  waiting  for  the 
postman  in  the  hall  of  the  Hotel  Continental,  a 
gentleman  was  introduced  to  me  by  the  manager 
as  Count  Seckendorff .  He  said  he  had  heard  from 
Prince  Biilow  that  I  was  in  Berlin.  He  had  long 
wished  to  meet  me  and  tell  me  how  pleased  he 
was  that  I  had  been  the  means  of  arranging  for 
the  publication  of  an  English  life  of  the  Emperor 
Frederick,  which  also  found  a  place  in  the  Tauch- 
nitz  Edition  of  British  Authors.  We  met  again 
a  few  days  later  at  the  house  of  a  retired  Prussian 
diplomat,  and  subsequently  became  so  intimate 
that  he  would  come  regularly  every  other  morning 
to  the  hotel,  share  my  early  breakfast,  and  remain 

184 


Count  SeckendorfF 

in  conversation  until  I  had  to  go  to  the  Wilhelm- 
strasse. 

I  had  long  known  Count  Seckendorff  by  repu- 
tation as  the  Chief  Court  Marshal  attached  to  the 
service  of  the  Empress  Frederick.  As  such,  how- 
ever, I  could  only  regard  him  as  one  whose  orbit 
was  that  of  a  satellite  revolving  round  a  sun — an 
earthly,  perishable  sun;  thus,  according  to  the 
more  serious  conception  of  life,  little  more  than 
a  shadow,  a  nonentity.  My  subsequent  intimacy 
with  this  most  sympathetic  and  cultivated  noble- 
man brought  home  to  me  that  his  official  status 
was  only  the  "  wrappage,"  the  covering  of  a  warm 
and  sympathetic  heart,  and  that  he  was  filled  with 
deep  anxiety  regarding  the  future  of  his  country. 
His  friendship  for  me  lasted  down  to  his  death, 
and  was  not  without  a  marked  influence  upon  my 
estimate  of  the  trend  of  German  affairs.  Moving 
as  he  did  in  exalted  but  essentially  insincere  sur- 
roundings, he  seemed  to  feel  a  want — a  craving 
to  confide  the  dire  misgivings  of  his  heart  to  an 
*' outsider"  on  whose  discretion  he  could  rely. 
For  even  to-day,  now  that  he  has  passed  away, 
whilst  others  are  living,  it  would  scarcely  become 
me  to  give  the  full  story  of  his  many  confidences. 
However,  this  I  feel  at  hberty  to  state,  that 
Count  Seckendorff  brought  home  to  me  what  I 
had  hitherto  only  partially  realised,  that  Germany 
was  being  led  to  a  precipice  by  the  worship  of  a 
deceptive  estimate  of  vital  issues,  and  that  its 
driving-power   was   deceit   and  its   aims   such   as 

185 


Things  I  Remember 

threatened  to  break  up  the  peace  of  the  world. 
'*  Our  material  resources  are  vast,  our  strength  is 
enormous,"  he  said  one  day,  **  but,  alas!  our 
conscience  is  not  clean  ' ' ! 

There  is,  I  should  say,  no  German  living 
to-day  who  possesses  the  cosmopolitan  social 
acceptance  enjoyed  by  Count  Seckendorff.  He 
numbered  friends  in  almost  every  Royal  Family 
in  Europe,  as  also  among  the  leading  statesmen, 
diplomats,  scholars  and  influential  men  of  the 
world  of  different  countries,  advantages  which 
were  calculated  to  lend  exceptional  weight  to  his 
views  on  matters  of  supreme  importance.  He 
enjoyed  the  fullest  confidence  of  the  English 
Royal  Family,  and  was  one  of  the  few  unofficial 
Germans  whom  King  Edward  expressly  invited 
to  be  present  at  his  Coronation. 

Count  Seckendorff  assured  me  that  the  desire 
for  an  understanding  with  Germany  had  un- 
doubtedly been  honest  on  the  part  of  England, 
but  already,  years  ago,  the  advances  of  Mr. 
Chamberlain  had  been  repulsed  in  BerUn.  When 
King  Edward  came  to  the  throne  he  took  over 
an  unsatisfactory  condition  of  things,  of  which 
he  had  to  make  the  best  he  could.  The  reproach 
that  he  harboured  enmity  to  Germany  was  a 
grave  injustice.  A  good  understanding  with  Ger- 
many had  always  been  a  matter  near  his  heart, 
as  he  was  an  admirer  of  the  German  people, 
though  not  of  everything  German,  and  more  par- 
ticularly Prussian.     Count  Seckendorff  related  to 

1 86 


Bulow  "In  the  Soup" 

me  a  variety  of  personal  incidents  which  would  go 
a  long  way  towards  explaining  a  certain  aigreur 
in  high  circles,  as  well  as  much  of  the  diplomatic 
tension  between  England  and  Germany.  He  told 
me  that  the  German  Emperor  lives  in  an  imaginary 
world,  in  a  mirage  as  regards  the  reality  of  things ; 
and  he  bitterly  complained  that  nobody  had  the 
courage  to  tell  him  the  truth  or  advise  him  honestly 
in  accordance  with  it. 

After  many  weeks  of  anxious  tension,  one  fine 
morning  I  was  told  at  the  Wilhelmstrasse  that, 
thanks  to  the  conciliatory  attitude  of  Germany, 
the  Algeciras  Conference  would  end  in  peace  being 
assured — and  that  this  happy  ending  implied  a  per- 
sonal triumph  for  Prince  Billow.  I  communicated 
this  inteUigence  to  Mr.  Bennett,  who  replied  by 
private  telegram  :  "  Your  friend  (Prince  Billow)  is 
in  the  soup."  This  implied  that,  personally,  Mr. 
Bennett  did  not  look  upon  the  results  of  the 
Algeciras  Conference  as  a  triumph,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  as  a  German  defeat,  a  view  which  sub- 
sequent events  would  seem  to  have  justified.  For, 
as  we  now  know,  the  Conference  revealed  for  the 
first  time  the  unreliable  nature  of  Italy's  position 
in  the  Triple  Alliance.  It  strengthened  the 
Entente  between  England  and  France,  and  com- 
mitted Germany  to  a  course  of  action  which  was 
calculated  to  accentuate  and  inflame  those  sinister 
elements  which  were  destined  to  hurry  her  through 
the  rapids  on  to  Niagara. 

Reviewing  the  Morocco  imbroglio  as  one  who 

187 


Things  I  Remember 

was  day  by  day  progressively  put  into  possession 
of  the  German  case,  there  would  appear  to  have 
been  something  to  say  for  the  German  side  of 
the  argument.  But  the  Morocco  question  did  not 
and  will  not  stand  alone  in  the  light  of  history. 
It  must  be  looked  at  as  one  item  in  a  series  of 
many  years  of  constant,  intolerable  sword-rattling 
provocations,  the  ultimate  triumph  of  which  must 
have  brought  about  a  state  of  things  in  Europe — 
nay,  in  the  whole  world — which,  as  Sir  Edward 
Grey  has  since  righteously  declared,  he  would 
rather  perish  than  live  to  see. 

A  strongly  worded  letter  appeared  in  the 
Herald  about  this  time  accusing  its  Berlin  corre- 
spondent of  having  identified  the  paper  with  the 
German  side  of  the  Algeciras  question.  As  I  had 
reason  to  believe  that  Mr.  Bennett  himself  was 
not  unaware  of  this  attack,  I  wrote  to  him  that 
such  an  allegation  was  due  to  a  misapprehension 
of  the  duties  which  he  himself  had  laid  down  as 
being  those  of  a  correspondent  of  the  Herald, 
These  were  to  submit  the  latest  news,  official  or 
otherwise,  from  the  centre  at  which  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  paper  happened  to  be ;  in  this 
case  the  capital  of  the  German  Empire.  If  the 
matter  forwarded  by  me  had  put  a  favourable 
complexion  on  the  German  case,  this  could  only 
be  due  to  the  adroitness  of  the  officials  in  giving 
me  their  information,  for  individually  I  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  its  nature,  being 
only  a  transmitter.     I  added  that  I  intended  to 

i88 


The  Reuss  Family 

send  my  "  apologia  "  to  the  Herald,  where  it  was 
subsequently  published  without  the  alteration  of 
a  single  word.  At  the  same  time  I  gave  Mr. 
Bennett  notice  that  I  resigned  my  position  on 
the  paper,  and  intended  to  return  to  London 
at  the  end  of  the  month.  "  Send  in  your  account, 
and  it  will  be  paid,"  was  the  telegraphic  reply 
I  received. 

Before  returning  to  London  I  went  to  Treb- 
schen,  in  Brandenburg,  on  a  short  visit  to  Prince 
Reuss  VII.  I  have  referred  elsewhere  to  this  most 
excellent  man,  the  distinguished  diplomat  who 
negotiated  the  Austro-German  Alliance  in  1879. 
It  was  the  last  time  I  was  destined  to  be  his 
guest,  and  the  memory  of  it  remains  of  signifi- 
cance to-day.  He  too  deplored  the  "  vulgarisation 
of  ideal  values,"  and  stigmatised  the  broadcast 
bestowal  of  crosses  and  stars  as  a  means  of  general 
corruption  and  demoralisation  of  character.^  In 
parting  he  begged  me  to  continue  to  use  whatever 
influence  I  might  possess  as  a  political  writer  to 
further  the  interests  of  peace  and  concord  between 
England  and  Germany. 

Two  sisters.  Princesses  Reuss,  from  Emst- 
brunn,  in  Austria,  nieces  of  Prince  Reuss,  were 
staying  at  the  Schloss  at  the  time.  Both  ladies  had 
qualified  as  trained  hospital  nurses  and  had  been 
through  the  Russo-Japanese  war  in  that  capacity, 

1  According  to  the  Vossische  Zeitung,  430,000  Iron  Crosses,  includ- 
ing 10,000  first  class,  have  been  distributed  since  the  beginning  of  the 
war.     Their  total  weight  is  150  cwt. — Renter.     August  25,  '16. 

189 


Things  I  Remember 

giving  their  services  indiscriminately  to  the 
humblest  of  the  rank  and  file,  the  common  soldier, 
and  sharing  their  hardships.  I  enjoyed  some 
stimulating  conversations  with  these  highly  culti- 
vated ladies,  and  shortly  after  my  visit  I  received 
the  following  letter  from  the  one  of  the  two  sisters 
who  is  now  Queen  of  Bulgaria.  The  deep  human 
interest  expressed  will,  I  feel  sure,  appeal  to  the 
reader : 

"  Ernstbrunn,  Nieder-Osterreich, 
''80,  IV.,   1906. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Whitman, — I  am  so  very  grateful 
to  you  for  sending  me  your  delightfully  written 
notes  ^  on  the  Moscow  troubles  (those  about  War- 
saw I  got  from  my  Aunt  Reuss  at  Trebschen; 
read  them  with  the  greatest  pleasure,  too).  It  is 
very  interesting  to  me  to  read  your  impressions  of 
that  movement,  the  eflPects  and  consequences  of 
which  I  felt  very  unpleasantly  in  the  winter  while 
in  the  Far  East,  and  chiefly  of  the  moving  springs 
and  seasons  thereof. 

"  How  very  full  of  truth  is  your  saying,  that 
those  who  had  waited  for  so  many  hundred  years 
— why  couldn't  they  wait  a  few  weeks  longer? 
Now  their  Duma  is  coming  at  last,  may  it  but 
bring  them  all  they  are  expecting  it  to  bring !  I 
am  so  afraid  the  longed  for  and  sorely  needed 
rights  and  liberties  will  get  warped  and  diminished 

^  This  refers  to  the  matter  embodied  in  Chapters  X  and  XI,  a 
German  version  of  which  appeared  at  the  time  in  the  Deutsche 
Rundschau. 

190 


Queen  of  Bulgaria's  Letter 

to  a  degree  passing  through  the  sieve  of  those  new 
Staatsgrundrechte,  which  they  are  concocting  at 
Petersburg,  and  the  poor  people  will  again  be 
cheated!  That  would  be  a  fearful  calamity 
indeed !  They  don't  deserve  to  be  ill-treated  any 
longer ;  by  '  they  '  I  mean  the  real  people — the 
soldier,  the  sailor,  the  peasant,  etc.  Going  with 
them  through  these  hard  times  of  war  and  revolu- 
tion, nursing  them,  watching  them,  caring  for 
them  so  long,  I  learnt  to  love  and  respect  their 
admirable  qualities,  their  patience,  endurance, 
right  feeling  and  clear  common  sense.  These  in 
the  long  run  will  help  them  to  their  proper 
place,  in  the  right  way,  if  they  are  not  again 
mismanaged. 

"  I  was  delighted  to  hear  that  you  had  left 
your  gun  at  Trebschen.  That  makes  me  look 
forward  to  meeting  j^ou  there  some  time  in 
the  partridge  season;  I  should  enjoy  that  very 
much.  Once  more  :  vielen  herzlichen  Dank. — 
Yours  truly, 

"  Eleonora  Reuss." 

When  the  writer  of  such  a  letter  consented  to 
become  a  Queen  there  can  be  little  doubt  that 
it  was  with  the  view  of  extending  her  sphere  of 
activity  for  the  benefit  of  suffering  humanity. 

A  final  echo  of  the  Algeciras  Conference 
reached  me  just  before  starting  for  home  in  the 
following  letter  from  Count  SeckendorflF.  He 
had  gone  to  Rome  to  spend  the  Easter. 

191 


Things  I  Remember 

''Hotel  de  Londres,  Rome, 

"April  ISth,  1906. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Whitman, — My  time  has  been 
taken  up  to  such  an  extent  in  the  Eternal  City 
that  I  only  to-day  find  a  moment's  leisure  to  write 
to  you  and  thank  you  for  the  most  interesting 
article  in  the  Rundschau  and  for  your  letter,  which 
tells  me  of  your  future  plans,  which  means  going 
to  the  wilds.  Does  it  interest  you  to  go  to 
Jamaica  ? 

"  I  have  had  a  glorious  time  in  Rome,  and  felt 
so  Welt-entriickt  (removed  from  the  world)  that 
the  news  of  the  Conference  having  come  to  an  end 
moved  my  feelings  very  little.  Yet  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  meet  people  like  Visconti  Venosta 
and  Henry  White, ^  who  had  just  returned  from 
there.  Matters  concerning  '  Le  Personnel '  re- 
main very  painful  at  home,  and  we  all  hope  Biilow 
will  soon  recover  entirely.    We  cannot  miss  him. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  know  that  I  shall  not  see  you 
at  Berlin  on  my  return  about  the  middle  of  May, 
but  I  am  in  hopes  of  coming  to  England  in  June, 
and  I  shall  not  fail  to  let  you  know  where  I 
shall  be. 

"  En  attendant,  kindest  messages  della  Roma 
Madre  e  del  Santo  Padre,  whose  Castello  di  San 
Pietro  I  have  just  seen  in  its  glorious  fioccho  di 
Pasqua. — Yours  very  sincerely, 

''G.  Seckendorff." 

1  The  representative  of  the  United  States  at  the  Algeciras  Con- 
ference. 

192 


CHAPTER   XIII 

PARERGA 

My  recollections  of  Paris  are  comparatively 
meagre,  for  I  have  never  stayed  longer  than  a 
few  days  in  the  French  capital,  yet  they  include 
a  few  well-known  names.  The  great  painter, 
Ernest  Hebert,  for  many  years  director  of  the 
French  Academy  in  Rome,  was  one  of  my  earliest 
Parisian  connections.  A  friend  brought  me  into 
contact  with  Madame  Edmond  Adam,  known 
under  her  pseudonym  as  Juliette  Lamber.  In 
those  days — nearly  thirty  years  ago — she  was  the 
fiery  champion  of  the  Revanche  in  the  Nouvelle 
Revue,  Another  friend  took  me  to  the  studio  of 
Alphonse  de  Neuville,  the  most  gifted  of  all 
French  war  painters ;  to  that  of  Edouard  Detaille, 
and  of  Beme-Bellecour,  from  the  last  of  whom  I 
bought  a  picture.  All  three  of  these  distinguished 
artists  had  served  as  French  officers  in  the  1870 
war. 

In  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  there  stand,  to 
be  seen  of  all  visitors,  two  stone  figures  emblem- 
atical of  the  towns  of  Strassburg  and  Metz. 
Wreaths  and  garlands  usually  lie  about  their 
pedestals,    placed    there   for    the    most    part    by 

N  193 


Things  I  Remember 

native-born  Alsatians  living  in  the  capital,  who 
for  forty  years  and  more  have  looked  forward  to 
the  day  when  the  provinces  of  Alsace  and  Lor- 
raine, torn  from  France,  w^ould  again  be  united 
under  the  tricolour.  The  dream  may  have  faded 
into  ethereal  thinness  at  times,  but  always  it  has 
been  cherished,  and  the  immortelles  placed  on  the 
statues  have  spoken  of  the  undying  love  of  the 
French  people  for  the  lost  provinces  of  Alsace 
and  Lorraine.  Yearly,  their  former  citizens  have 
assembled  at  dinner  in  Paris  to  affirm  again  deep 
attachment  to  the  land  of  their  birth  and  their 
grief  that  it  should  be  ruled  by  another  Power. 

It  was  in  January,  1889,  that  I  attended  such 
a  celebration.  Nominally  the  dinner  was  given 
in  honour  of  a  French  veterinary  surgeon,  M. 
Antoine,  who  had  a  little  before  come  into  fame 
by  his  candidature  for  a  seat  in  the  Reichstag  as 
representative  of  the  city  of  Metz.  I  shall  not 
readily  forget  the  impressions  of  that  evening. 
There  was  a  depth  of  feeling  displayed  that  spoke 
of  passions  which  required  no  such  occasion  to 
excite  them.  M.  Antoine  himself  delivered  an 
address  notable  not  less  for  its  fervour  than  for 
its  refinement  and  the  perfect  elocution  of  the 
speaker.  The  supreme  moment  came,  however, 
when,  in  a  hush  of  silence,  two  girls  in  mourning 
black,  adorned  with  the  emblems  of  Strassburg 
and  Metz,  entered  the  room;  the  first  hush  of 
their  entry  was  broken  by  tumultuous  cheering, 
long  continued,  amid  which  one  caught  the  sobs 

194 


A  Son  of  Alsace 

of  strong  men  and  saw  tears  coursing  down  aged 
cheeks. 

High  on  the  emotions  of  that  moment  rose  the 
voice  of  an  elderly  gentleman  to  whose  authority 
all  accorded  respect.  He  spoke  rapidly  and  pas- 
sionately, amid  almost  continual  cheering,  as  he 
poured  out  his  indictment  of  German  rule  and 
German  methods  and  the  outraged  sense  of  France 
at  the  loss  of  her  children.  Raising  high  his  hand, 
his  voice  rang  clarion-like  through  the  hall  as  he 
exclaimed:  ''Vous  avez  notre  sol,  mais  vous 
n'aurez  pas  nos  coeurs."  The  whole  evening  was 
an  amazing  event  to  myself,  drawn  by  all  my 
early  training  to  sympathy  with  the  German  side 
in  the  struggle  of  1870.  Here  was  revealed  the 
unslumbering  enmity  of  the  despoiled  race.  Here 
one  saw  the  still  smarting  sore  which  was  decently 
cloaked  in  the  ordinary  light  of  day.  All  that  I 
heard  that  night  was  a  definite  challenge  to  the 
views  I  had  formed,  and  I  caught  myself  wonder- 
ing whether,  after  all,  Bismarck  had  not  been 
right  when  he  opposed  the  annexation  of  Metz 
as  a  thing  that  for  generations  would  keep  alive 
the  hatred  of  Germany  in  the  hearts  of  the  French. 
The  fervent  declaration  of  the  old  man  :  ' '  Vous 
avez  notre  sol,  mais  vous  n'aurez  pas  nos  coeurs," 
would  come  back  to  me  in  after  years  whenever 
any  acute  pohtical  situation  arose  between  the 
two  countries. 

Little  of  these  undercurrents  was  to  be  noticed 
by  the  stranger  who  came  to  Paris ;  daily  life  has 

195 


Things  I  Remember 

its  calls  upon  the  energies  of  a  nation  as  of  the 
individual.  It  leaves  us  little  leisure  to  dwell 
upon  the  sorrows  of  the  past,  upon  grievances 
that  cannot  be  put  right  and  losses  that  cannot 
be  made  good.  The  instincts  of  the  crowd, 
immersed,  centred  on  individual  gain — the  care 
for  a  mere  livelihood — obscure  the  ideals  of  a 
race.  A  visitor  in  the  'nineties,  passing  along  the 
Rue  Vivienne  as  it  debouches  on  to  the  Bourse, 
would  stand  amazed  at  a  pandemonium  of  noise 
and  motion,  of  men  shouting  and  struggUng  back- 
wards and  forwards.  "  What  is  it  all  about?  Is 
it  war,  or  perhaps  a  Royalist  rising?"  You  ask  a 
gendarme;  and  his  callous  reply  is:  '*  Les  mines 
d'or " !  Stockbrokers  are  fighting  for  South 
African  gold  shares.  Mammon  is  still  the  god, 
and  the  five-franc  piece  is  the  emblem  of  its 
worship  by  the  crowd. 

A  few  years  roll  on,  and  when  you  come  again 
to  France  it  is  to  witness  the  greatest  danger, 
the  greatest  humiliation,  the  Republic  has  had 
to  encounter :  the  infamous  Dreyfus  case,  and 
with  it  the  lurid  light  it  threw  upon  the  venality, 
the  decadence,  of  the  Paris  Press.  The  soul  of 
the  French  race  was  still  dormant,  and  it  took  a 
lot  to  rouse  it.  The  credit  of  having  brought  this 
about  belongs  to  Germany,  for  it  sometimes  needs 
all  the  devilry  of  Satan  to  recall  man  to  the  sense 
of  his  higher  mission.  It  is  due  to  Germany  that, 
after  endless  provocations,  all  that  was  noblest  in 
the  glorious  traditions  of  France  awoke  to  life 

196 


General  Joffre 

again.  The  shades  of  the  heroes  of  1870,  those 
who  died  unnamed  and  unknown — '*  Les  Heros 
sans  Gloire  " — immortaHsed  in  Hebert's  magnifi- 
cent picture,  those  who  gave  their  life  to  their 
country  in  defeat,  rise  up  again.  We  behold 
the  noble  leaders  on  the  Loire,  Aurelles  de  Pala- 
dine  and  Chanzy ;  Faidherbe,  the  commander  at 
St.  Quentin,  valorously  endeavouring  to  lead  a 
beaten  army  back  to  victory ;  even  the  slender, 
nervous  figure  of  Paul  Deroulede,  who  wrote 
"  Les  Chants  du  Soldat,"  is  not  forgotten!  The 
memory  of  the  leonine  features  of  the  grocer's 
son  of  Cahors,  Gambetta,  the  fiery  tribune  of 
the  French  people,  stirs  our  imagination — he 
of  whom  the  old  Emperor  William  spoke  with 
deference  as  a  patriot  who  had  willed  what  was 
great  and  thus  was  entitled  to  greatness !  And 
to-day  all  that  is  noble,  human  and  worthy  is  re- 
incarnated in  the  person  of  a  man  born  of  the 
people.  He  is  endowed  with  the  genius  to  direct 
and  command  millions  of  fighters  who  worship 
him,  for  he  has  retained  the  unspoilt  heart  of  a 
child — Joffre !  Joy  be  with  that  name,  which, 
interpreted  in  the  old  Prankish  tongue,  signifies 
the  "Peace  of  God,''  here  destined  to  call  back 
an  instinct  which  had  slumbered  for  so  long  in  an 
age  of  crass  materialism :  Reverence — reverence 
for  what  is  and  always  will  be  divine  in  man  and 
so  beautifully  set  forth  in  Our  Lord's  Prayer : 
"  Father  which  art  in  Heaven,  hallowed  be  Thy 
Name." 

197 


Things  I  Remember 

My  connection  with  the  Herald  also  brought 
me  occasionally  to  Paris,  and  I  rarely  failed  to 
look  up  the  famous  correspondent  of  The  Times 
in  that  city,  Le  Chevalier  de  Blowitz,  whose 
"  Memoirs,"  published  since  his  death  (London, 
1904),  make  most  interesting  reading,  besides 
being  an  appreciable  contribution  to  the  diplo- 
matic records  of  our  time.  As  in  the  case  of  a 
number  of  other  friends,  my  acquaintance  with 
him  dated  back  to  my  earlier  days  of  book  author- 
ship. It  came  about  as  follows  :  M.  de  Blowitz 
had  apparently  read  a  book  of  mine — the  first  I 
ever  wrote — entitled  "  Conventional  Cant."  It 
had  been  translated  into  French,  and  was  lengthily 
reviewed  in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  by  Victor 
Cherbuliez,  of  the  French  Academy,  and  Blowitz 
had  expressed  a  wish  to  a  friend  of  mine  to  make 
my  acquaintance.  ''I  have  read  your  book  with 
great  interest,"  he  said,  *' but  I  must  tell  you 
that  it  suffers  from  the  one  cardinal  defect  for 
which  there  is  no  forgiveness  :  it  tells  the  truth." 

M.  de  Blowitz  is  too  well  remembered  by 
journalists  to  eall  for  any  lengthy  treatment  at 
my  hands.  In  face  of  much  idle  gossip  it  will 
suffice  to  emphasise  my  belief  in  his  great 
gifts  as  a  journalist,  his  reliability  as  a  man,  and 
his  loyalty  to  those  of  his  colleagues  who  were 
brought  into  contact  with  him.  Blowitz  is  said 
to  have  possessed  a  sharp  tongue,  but  that  he 
could  also  be  reticent  and  self-denying  is,  I  think, 
shown  by  the  following  incident  which,  too,  is  not 

198 


-■v: 


The  Bismarck  Dismissal 

without  political  interest.  It  is  described  in  his 
Reminiscences,  but  in  telling  it  to  me  he  dotted 
the  "  i's  "  in  a  manner  which  he  discreetly  for- 
bore to  do  in  his  published  account  of  the  subject- 
matter.  I  take  pleasure  in  rendering  it  as  he  told 
it  to  me,  for  I  am  convinced  that  he  spoke  the 
truth,  and  the  truth  is  to  his  credit. 

Shortly  after  the  dismissal  of  Prince  Bismarck 
from  office  a  story  got  about  that  the  abrupt 
manner  in  which  this  historical  event  took  place 
w^as  principally  due  to  the  violent  temper  of 
Princess  Bismarck,  who  had  goaded  her  husband 
to  resent  the  imperious  conduct  of  the  Emperor. 
Blow^itz  told  me  that  the  story  was  related  to  him 
in  extenso  by  Count  Miinster,  at  that  time  the 
German  Ambassador  in  Paris,  w^ho  visibly  enjoyed 
the  telling.  Blowitz  said  people  were  in  the  habit 
of  giving  him  bits  of  information  with  the  proviso 
that  he  was  to  treat  them  as  a  matter  of  confidence. 
But  he  had  made  it  a  rule  to  tell  his  informants 
that  he  only  met  people  and  sought  information 
in  his  qualification  as  The  Tivies  correspondent, 
and  he  had  no  wish  for  confidences  of  which  he 
was  not  at  liberty  to  make  use.  If  people  forgot 
this,  it  was  at  their  own  risk.  In  this  particular 
instance,  however,  as  he  told  me,  in  view  of  the 
sensational  nature  of  the  matter  brought  to  his 
knowledge,  he  thought  he  would  make  an  excep- 
tion and  give  the  German  Ambassador  another 
chance.  So  he  w^aited  imtil  further  opportunity 
presented  itself  of  meeting  Count  Miinster.    A 

199 


Things  I  Remember 

suitable  opening  being  given,  His  Excellency 
again  broached  the  subject  and  launched  out 
broadly  on  this  fascinating  subject,  and  repeated 
the  whole  story.  ''Now  I  had  no  longer  any 
compxinction,"  said  Blowitz,  "  and  sent  the  whole 
matter  red-hot  to  The  Times. ^^  It  immediately 
made  a  tremendous  sensation  throughout  Europe, 
and  led  to  Count  Herbert  Bismarck  calling 
peremptorily  upon  Count  Miinster  to  repudiate 
the  story  or  take  the  consequences  of  an  insult  to 
his  mother — namely,  pistols  for  two. 

This  at  least  Count  Herbert  subsequently  told 
me  himself.  Count  Miinster  sought  to  exculpate 
himself  in  a  hardly  dignified  manner,  and  the  letter 
in  which  he  did  so — minus  the  terms  of  oppro- 
brium in  which  he  referred  to  Blowitz — was 
published  in  Bismarck's  organ,  the  Hamburger 
Nachrichten.  In  the  meantime  the  staff  of  the 
German  Embassy  implored  Blowitz  to  take  the 
onus  of  the  story  from  the  Ambassador.  That 
he  did  so  was  certainly  magnanimous  on  his  part, 
for,  backed  by  The  Times,  no  power  on  earth 
could  have  forced  him  to  retract.  Many  men 
would  have  declined  to  do  so. 

I  was  somewhat  surprised  to  find  that  a  man 
who  had  contributed  so  much  important  matter 
to  the  columns  of  The  Times  was  by  no  means 
master  of  the  English  language;  for,  in  telling 
some  striking  and  improbable  story,  he  ended  by 
exclaiming :  ''  I  swear  it  to  you  on  my  honour," 
and  pronounced  the  word  "  swear  "  as  '*  sweere  " 

200 


Memories  of  Blowitz 

and  **  honour"  as  if  it  had  two  *'h's."  I  men- 
tioned this  subsequently  to  the  late  Mr.  Moberly 
Bell,  manager  of  The  Times,  who  agreed,  with  a 
laugh,  but  added  that  Blowitz 's  imperfect  know- 
ledge of  Enghsh  was  of  no  consequence.  It  did 
not  detract  from  his  value  as  a  purveyor  of  political 
news,  for  his  "copy"  was  easily  polished  up  in 
the  office. 

Blowitz  inhabited  a  sumptuous  flat  in  the  most 
fashionable  part  of  that  deUghtful  Parisian  suburb, 
Passy,  whither  he  asked  me  one  day  to  lunch. 
The  little  man  with  the  enormous  head  received 
me  in  his  dressing-gown,  and  led  me  to  his  study. 
The  walls  of  the  apartment  were  filled  with  the 
framed  patents  of  various  decorations  of  which  he 
was  the  happy  possessor,  while  on  a  chair  I  espied 
his  snow-white  shirt  and  collar  laid  out  ready  to 
be  donned  for  the  day.  During  our  meal  he  was 
called  up  on  the  telephone,  and  to  the  query 
''Who's  there.?"  he  airily  replied  "  de  Blowitz." 
Our  conversation  included  a  reference  to  his  ex- 
periences of  the  Berlin  Conferences,  the  proudest 
moment  of  which  was  an  invitation  he  received  to 
dine  with  Bismarck,  of  whom,  in  spite  of  his 
whole-hearted  French  sympathies,  he  was  a  sincere 
admirer.  "You  have  no  idea,"  he  said,  "what 
a  fund  of  material  I  took  home  from  the  one 
evening  spent  with  that  great  man.  I  have  drawn 
upon  it  ever  since,  and  I  have  not  exhausted  it 
even  to  this  day  ! ' ' 

Blowitz  was  ever  at  the  service  of  his  friends, 
20 1 


Things  1  Remember 

and  among  the  kindnesses  I  owed  to  him  was 
one  of  giving  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
the  eminent  French  author,  Alphonse  Daudet. 
Daudet  was  already  an  invalid.  He  was  scarcely 
able  to  rise  from  his  chair  to  receive  a  visitor.  I 
condoled  with  his  state  of  health  and  hazarded  the 
remark  that  it  was  probably  due  to  his  having 
devoted  himself  too  zealously  to  his  literary 
labours.  ''Oh,  no,"  he  replied;  "I  have  not 
merely  worked  too  hard;  I  have  done  everything 
to  excess.  You  see,  I  was  born  in  the  sunny 
South;  j'ai  bu  le  soleil ;  it  got  into  my  veins  and 
set  my  blood  on  fire." 

Referring  to  the  literary  atmosphere  of  Paris, 
which  I  had  thought  ought  to  act  as  an  inspiring 
influence  on  its  votaries,  I  expressed  my  surprise 
at  the  petty  jealousies  and  animosities  which 
Blowitz  had  assured  me  permeated  the  literary 
world  of  Paris.  "  Ah,"  he  said,  "  parmi  les  dents 
qui  dechirent  ses  voisins,  la  sienne  n'est  pas  la 
moins  cruelle!" 

One  of  my  oldest  Paris  friends  and  the  most 
intimate  was  Dr.  Max  Nordau,  whose  name 
has  long  been  a  household  word  wherever  men 
of  cosmopolitan  intellectual  tastes  are  gathered 
together,  for  his  book,  "Degeneration,"  was 
accepted  as  a  valuable  contribution  to  critical 
psychology,  and  created  quite  a  sensation  when  it 
was  published  some  twenty  years  ago.  Although 
an  Austrian  subject,  he  has  lived  the  best  part 

202 


Max  Nordau 

of  a  lifetime  in  Paris,  where  for  many  years  he 
had  lived  with  his  mother  in  a  modest  flat  near 
Pare  Monceaux.  He  only  married  late  in  life, 
and  in  the  happy  choice  he  made  he  showed,  as 
in  many  other  directions,  his  keen  appreciation  of 
values. 

Besides  turning  out  books  and  contributing  to 
some  of  the  leading  periodicals  on  the  Continent, 
he  practised  as  a  physician ;  but  at  the  outbreak 
of  the  present  war  he  was  told  to  go,  and  has 
since  been  living  in  retirement  in  Madrid.  As  an 
illustration  of  the  Spinozistic  independence  of  the 
man,  the  following  little  incident  strikes  me  as 
worthy  of  record. 

In  the  course  of  one  of  my  visits  to  Paris  I 
happened  to  call  on  one  of  the  most  famous  French 
painters,  whose  beautiful  wife  was  a  lifelong  friend 
of  mine.  She  asked  me  to  come  to  dinner  that 
same  evening,  an  invitation  which  I  was  obliged 
to  decline,  telling  her  that  I  had  already  promised 
to  spend  the  evening  with  my  friend  Nordau  at  a 
brasserie  on  the  boulevards. 

"  Max  Nordau  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  Why,  my 
husband  is  an  ardent  admirer  of  his  books.  Bring 
him  with  you,  by  all  means ;  we  shall  be  delighted 
to  make  his  acquaintance." 

When  Nordau  came  to  fetch  me  at  my  hotel 
in  the  Rue  Montaigne,  I  gave  him  the  message 
and  suggested  that  we  should  drop  the  brasserie 
and  drive  to  the  stately  home  of  my  friend. 
Seeing    him    hesitate,    I    entered    into    a    warm 

203 


Things  I  Remember 

description  of  the  pleasure  and  benefit  he  would 
derive  from  making  the  acquaintance  of  a  great 
artist  and  such  a  cultivated  woman,  both  moving 
in  the  best  and  most  exclusive  French  society, 
and  that  this  connection  might  be  of  worldly 
advantage  to  him.  After  a  short  silence  he 
replied :  "  It  is  very  good  of  monsieur  to  admire 
my  books,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  cannot  admire 
his  pictures.  You  go,  by  all  means,  and  we  will 
meet  another  evening  together  instead." 

Needless  to  say,  we  spent  the  evening  together 
at  the  brasserie.  In  exchanging  our  experiences 
over  several  glasses  of  beer  I  mentioned  my  con- 
versation with  de  Blowitz,  and  what  he  had  told 
me  about  the  evening  when  he  had  dined  with 
Bismarck  and  the  immense  fund  of  information 
and  anecdote  he  had  brought  away  with  him  on 
that  memorable  occasion.  "  That  is  all  the  more 
remarkable,"  said  Nordau,  ^'  since  it  is  most  prob- 
able that  Blowitz  was  talking  all  the  time  and 
hardly  gave  Bismarck  a  chance  to  say  anything." 

Nordau  possesses  that  rare  courage  which 
intellectual  distinction  tends  to  blend  with  the 
character,  and  of  which  Spinoza  was  one  of  the 
most  shining  examples,  for  he  was  unconscious  of 
fear.  This  quality  is  one  of  the  distinctive  marks 
of  high-class  men  of  every  nationality,  notably  of 
the  gentleman,  those  who  have  subjugated  fear  in 
all  its  protean  forms.  Nordau  showed  that  he 
possessed  this  high  qualification  when  he  joined 
Zola  in  the  defence  of  Dreyfus      He  was  even 

204 


The  Retort  Discourteous 

capable  of  forgetting  the  susceptibilities  of  others 
when  it  would  have  involved  a  compromise  with 
his  own  convictions.  I  was  once  witness  of  a 
scene  illustrating  this  quality,  fortunately  in  a 
more  or  less  humorous  way.  When  the  sen- 
sation caused  by  the  publication  of  Nordau's 
^'  Degeneration "  was  at  its  height  he  paid  a 
short  visit  to  London,  and  I  was  invited  to  meet 
him  at  the  house  of  a  friend  who  had  arranged  a 
reception  in  his  honour.  Everybody  was  talking 
^'  Degeneration  "  at  that  time.  Two  journaUsts 
of  Nordau's  own  race — known  for  their  intense 
conceit,  but  by  no  means  favoured  in  personal 
appearances — pressed  round  him,  most  anxious  to 
hear  from  the  great  man's  lips  whether  they  too 
were  to  be  included  in  the  dreadful  category  of 
degenerates!  "  Why,  of  course,"  replied  Nordau. 
"  Look  at  the  shape  of  your  ears,  without  a  lobe, 
your  chin,  and  your  mouth.  Why,  you  have  all 
the  stigmata  of  a  hopeless  degenerate ! ' ' 

"  Master,  am  I  too  a  degenerate?"  chimed 
in  the  other  in  his  most  insinuating,  fawning 
manner. 

''You,"  replied  Nordau;  ''why,  to  be  sure 
you  are.  One  needs  only  look  at  you  to  see  that 
a  thousand  years  of  Ghetto  life  have  left  their 
mark  of  physical  degeneracy  on  your  body." 

Once  there  was  a  question  of  offering  me  the 
position  of  correspondent  of  The  Times  at  Berlin, 
but  though  it  came  to  nothing,  it  resulted  in  my 

205 


Things  I  Remember 

making  the  acquaintance  of  both  Mr.  Moberly 
Bell  and  Mr.  Arthur  Walter,  at  whose  houses  I 
had  been  a  guest  and  where  I  met  many  people 
of  distinction. 

Calling  one  day  upon  Mr.  Moberly  Bell 
in  Portland  Place,  I  was  introduced  by  Mrs. 
Moberly  Bell  to  an  Englishman  of  high  position 
in  the  Government  service  in  South  Africa.  She 
mentioned  that  I  had  been  a  personal  friend  of 
Prince  Bismarck,  and  was  a  recognised  authority 
on  German  affairs.    To  this  he  replied  : 

'*  Germany!  I  don't  like  the  Germans;  they 
are  disagreeable  people.  I  prefer  the  French.  A 
Frenchman  says  :  '  Mille  pardons,  monsieur ;  mille 
remerciments,  monsieur.'  He  may  not  mean  it, 
but  I  like  to  hear  it." 

On  one  occasion,  leaving  a  friend's  house 
where  we  had  dined  together,  Mr.  Moberly 
Bell  accompanied  me  to  my  club,  where  we  sat 
until  closing  time,  for  he  was  one  of  the  most 
fascinating  and  inexhaustible  of  raconteurs.  He 
told  me,  inter  alia,  the  following  anecdote  of 
Delane,  the  great  editor  of  The  Times,  Calling 
one  day  on  Lord  Palmerston,  his  lordship  in- 
formed him,  with  a  very  grave  mien,  that  the 
Queen  was  in  a  precarious  state  of  health ;  in  fact, 
there  could  be  no  telling  what  the  outcome  of  her 
condition  might  be.  This  unexpected  bit  of  news 
put  Mr.  Delane  into  a  state  of  great  perturbation 
which  lasted  several  days,  the  cause  of  which  sub- 
sequently oozed  out  among  the  staff  of  the  paper. 

206 


A  Delane  Story 

By  some  unaccountable  oversight  no  obituary 
notice  of  Her  Majesty  had  been  kept  in  prepara- 
tion in  The  Times  office,  as  is  usual  in  great 
newspaper  offices  regarding  prominent  persons. 
This  was  remedied  at  top  speed,  and  when  the 
article  was  finished  Delane  was  heard  to  heave  a 
sigh  of  relief,  ejaculating  :  ''  Now  the  dear  lady 
may  die  whenever  she  likes;  The  Times  is  pre- 
pared for  the  event." 

In  looking  through  my  recollections  I  find 
that,  whereas  I  have  touched  upon  life  at  many 
points,  I  have  scarcely  included  a  single  reference 
to  its  most  vital  aspect — namely,  that  of  bodily 
health.  In  this  connection  one  of  my  more  recent 
journalistic  excursions  seems  w^orthy  of  record.  In 
the  summer  of  1909  I  received  a  letter  from  the 
Mayor  of  Karlsbad,  inviting  me  to  go  there  to 
write  an  introduction  to  a  book  on  the  history  of 
the  town  and  the  nature  of  the  cure,  which  it  was 
intended  to  issue  in  the  English  language.  I  had 
often  been  to  Karlsbad  before  and  taken  the 
waters  in  a  casual  manner,  but  now  my  task  was 
a  more  serious  one.  It  included  that  of  reading 
up  the  subject,  and  this  involved  a  study  of 
history,  for  which  the  town  library  was  placed  at 
my  disposal.  The  story  of  Karlsbad,  as  far  as  it 
is  based  on  authentic  data,  goes  back  to  the  four- 
teenth century,  and  is  identified  with  many  of  the 
historical  events  which  have  taken  place  in  that 
part  of  the  world,  notably  the  Thirty  Years'  War. 

207 


Things  I  Remember 

Among  the  distinguished  personages  visiting 
Karlsbad  was  Peter  the  Great,  who  passed  his 
time  in  the  company  of  mechanics,  masons  and 
carpenters,  helping  to  build  a  house  as  a  workman. 
His  prowess  as  a  rifle-shot  is  still  evidenced  by  a 
target  on  which  he  scored  a  bull.  This  is  kept  as 
a  memento  by  the  Rifle  Guild  of  the  town.  There 
are  memories  of  the  poet  Schiller ;  of  Goethe,  who 
met  there,  when  over  seventy  years  of  age,  the 
last  of  his  loves;  of  Beethoven,  who  promenaded 
with  scorn  for  the  crowd  which  watched  him, 
already  secure  in  his  mind  of  that  immortality 
which  raised  him  above  the  transient  glory  of  the 
archdukes  and  others  who  would  have  courted 
him. 

My  visit  furnished  me  with  many  opportunities 
for  obtaining  information  respecting  the  marvellous 
hygienic  properties  of  the  Karlsbad  waters.  Lord 
Westbury,  hearing  of  my  task,  came  to  see  me 
one  evening,  and  gave  me  an  enthusiastic  account 
of  the  effect  of  the  Karlsbad  waters  in  his  own 
particular  case.  A  London  doctor  had  told  him 
that  he  had  but  a  short  time  to  live.  He  went  to 
Karlsbad,  was  cured  there,  and  took  such  a  strong 
interest  in  the  place  that  he  built  the  Imperial 
Hotel,  to  which,  until  the  outbreak  of  the  war, 
he  devoted  all  his  energies.  A  London  physician 
assured  me  that  the  only  medicine  Sir  William 
Jenner  prescribed  for  Queen  Victoria  during  the 
last  twenty  years  of  her  life  was  Karlsbad  crystal 
salts.     Among  many  other  interesting  items  of 

208 


Edward  VII.  and  Clemenceau 

information  given  to  me  by  Dr.  Schumann  Leclerc 
— one  of  Karlsbad's  leading  physicians — was  that 
he  numbered  M.  Clemenceau  among  his  distin- 
guished patients.  What  he  told  me  of  the  French 
statesman  is  not  quite  disconnected  with  the  moral 
renaissance  of  France  of  which  all  the  world  is  the 
admiring  witness.  A  French  Prime  Minister  who 
lived  so  simply  and  worked  so  hard  as  Clemenceau 
did  when  staying  in  Karlsbad  surely  embodies  a 
significant  portent.  Clemenceau  occupied  one  of 
the  cheapest  apartments  to  be  had  in  Karlsbad, 
and  when  King  Edward  came  to  Karlsbad,  after 
Clemenceau  had  left,  he  went  specially  to  visit 
the  room  which  the  French  Premier  had  occupied. 

I  was  also  fortunate  enough  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  that  eminent  American  njan  of 
letters,  Mr.  William  Dean  Howells,  and  his 
charming  daughter.  It  gave  a  zest  to  my  visit 
which  even  the  wonderful  effects  of  the  waters 
would  have  been  unable  to  supply;  and,  what  is 
more,  it  was  followed  by  a  renewal  of  our  acquaint- 
ance later  in  London,  where  I  had  the  honour 
of  entertaining  father  and  daughter  in  my  own 
house. 

Everything  was  done  by  the  authorities  to 
make  my  stay  an  agreeable  one.  The  Kur- 
Director,  Baron  Gerlach,  invited  me  to  lunch  one 
day  at  the  sumptuous  Savoy  Hotel  on  the  Schloss- 
berg.  Welcoming  me  at  the  entrance,  he  said : 
"We  are  in  luck's  way  to-day,  for  King  Edward 
is  also  lunching  here."    We  took  a  discreet  peep 

o  209 


Things  I  Remember 

through  the  Venetian  window  bUnds  of  the  dining- 
room  window  on  to  the  garden  below,  where  His 
Majesty  was  comfortably  installed  at  a  table  sur- 
rounded by  a  bevy  of  most  attractive  ladies.  The 
King  was  evidently  enjoying  himself  at  his  ease, 
since  in  those  parts  nobody  would  have  dreamt  of 
intruding  upon  his  privacy.  It  was  the  last  time 
I  set  eyes  on  King  Edward,  whose  death  brought 
me  a  somewhat  unusual  journalistic  experience. 
Coming  home  one  afternoon,  I  found  a  telegram 
awaiting  me  from  the  Vienna  Neue  Freie  Presse 
asking  me  whether  I  would  contribute  an  article 
for  their  columns  on  the  deceased  King,  and  send 
it  off  within  forty-eight  hours.  I  took  my  reply 
accepting  the  offer  to  the  post  office,  and  on  my 
return  found  an  almost  identical  telegram  from 
the  Berhn  illustrated  weekly.  Die  Woche,  await- 
ing me.  This  I  also  accepted,  and  was  thus  able 
to  say  to  myself  that  my  humble  tribute  to  the 
late  King  would  be  read  simultaneously  in  two 
of  the  most  widely  circulated  publications  in 
Germany  and  Austria-Hungary. 


zio 


CHAPTER   XIV 

ON   THE   BRINK 

The  following  years  found  me  taking  frequent 
journeys  backwards  and  forwards  between  England 
and  Germany,  for  I  was  in  the  habit  of  spending 
my  holidays  either  in  a  German  or  an  Austrian 
watering-place.  I  visited  Prince  Biilow  at  Nor- 
derney  in  the  month  of  August,  1906,  and  again 
in  the  same  month  of  1908,  and  a  summary  of 
my  conversations  with  him  appeared  at  the  time 
in  the  columns  of  various  London  newspapers  and 
led  to  some  controversy  in  the  Quarterly  Review. 
I  was  subsequently  the  guest  of  the  Prince  on 
several  occasions  in  Berlin,  where  the  key-note  of 
his  eager  inquiries  was  whether  I  believed  that 
powerful  influences  in  England,  notably  The 
Times,  were  intent  on  war  with  Germany.  I 
replied  that  I  was  not  in  the  confidence  of  that 
great  organ,  but  I  felt  convinced  that  if  there 
were  those  in  England  who  were  bent  on  trouble, 
they  formed  a  negligible  minority. 

At  the  same  time  I  repeatedly  emphasised  to 
Prince  Biilow  my  conviction  that  the  progressive 
and  startHng  increase  of  the  German  Fleet  was  a 
matter  of  grave  suspicion  and  concern  to  a  large 

211 


Things  I  Remember 

body  of  English  opinion ;  and  I  thought  this  was 
thoroughly  justified,  inasmuch  as  it  was  impossible 
to  find  any  other  explanation  for  these  extrava- 
gant armaments  than  an  intention,  sooner  or  later, 
to  challenge  England's  naval  position,  and  thus 
her  very  existence. 

Prince  Biilow,  always  amiability  itself,  made 
light  of  what  I  said.  He  tried  to  impress  me 
with  the  absurdity  of  the  idea  of  the  German 
Fleet  ever  being  able  to  cope  with  the  British 
Navy,  however  much  it  might  be  enlarged.  "  I 
have  had  the  chief  ojBBcers  of  all  our  battleships 
assembled  here  in  the  next  room ' '  (to  which  he 
pointed),  "  and  they  one  and  all  bore  emphatic 
testimony  to  the  unrivalled  eflSciency  of  the  British 
Fleet  and  the  hopelessness  of  any  attempt  on  our 
part  to  compete  with  it  on  an  equality." 

I  should  not  consider  myself  entitled  to  find 
fault  with  a  German  statesman  if  he  really  in- 
tended to  bluff  or  deceive  an  English  journalist — 
indeed,  it  would  only  be  what  the  latter  might 
expect  in  seeking  confidential  information  from 
such  a  source.  Thus  I  do  not  complain  that  in 
all  these  lulling  assurances  the  items  of  sub- 
marines, mines  or  torpedoes  never  once  cropped 
up  in  our  conversations. 

My  personal  connection  with  the  Prince  was 
supplemented  by  a  desultory  correspondence  which 
spread  over  a  number  of  years  down  to  the  out- 
break of  the  present  war.  He  was  always  most 
kind  and  generous  in  his  recognition  of  my  efforts 

212 


Dining  with  Biilow 

to  correct  erroneous  statements  regarding  matters 
of  fact  about  German  affairs  which  now  and  then 
appeared  in  the  London  Press.  One  of  the  last 
attentions  I  received  from  him  was  an  autographed 
presentation  copy  of  his  book,  "  Imperial  Ger- 
many." 

I  also  remained  in  close  touch  with  the  late 
Count  Seckendorff,  and  he  proved  himself  to  be 
a  valuable  source  of  information  regarding  current 
topics  in  those  memorable  years.  We  met  on 
several  occasions  at  Prince  Billow's  table  or  else- 
where, and  the  Count  also  maintained  with  me  an 
interesting  and  intimate  correspondence  until  the 
time  of  his  death.  The  following  two  letters, 
which  I  have  selected  from  among  many  others, 
may  tend  to  throw  a  little  light  on  the  atmo- 
spheric conditions  prevailing  in  high  quarters 
at  that  date.  They  also  reveal,  I  think,  the 
sympathetic  human  nature  of  the  writer : 

"  1  Oberwallstrasse,  Berlin, 

''February  1st,  1908. 
''  Dear  Mr.  Sidney  Whitman, — Your  long 
and  interesting  letter  to  me  of  January  13th  gave 
us  all  here  much  pleasure  and  much  to  think  about 
[Anregung]  and  to  deplore.  I  am  afraid  que  le 
temps  et  Tage  ne  changeront  rien,  even  after  the 
hard  campaign  .  .  .  has  had  to  go  through.  The 
product  of  what  creates  such  an  unpleasant  effect 
is  often  [eine  Bemantelung  von  Verlegenheit  und 
schlechtem   Gewissen]    a   cloaking  of  embarrass- 

213 


Things  I  Remember 

ment  and  a  bad  conscience.^  But  .  .  .  ought 
not  to  have  such  weaknesses.  Alas!  that  is  a 
matter  of  education — unfinished  in  this  case. 
Therefore  want  of  tact,  which  is  the  most 
deplorable  of  all  evils. 

''  B.B.  [the  familiar  abbreviation  for  Bernhard 
Billow]  is  much  obliged  for  your  kind  souvenir, 
and  is  doing  his  best  at  present,  though  I  think 
there  is  much  of  a  tight-rope  dancer  [Seiltanzer] 
performance ;  and  it  will  be  difficult  to  get  well 
out  of  all  trouble.  I  am  afraid  there  is  confidence 
missing  in  our  dealings  with  the  world  at  large, 
and  we  will  have  to  work  long  to  regain  what  was 
the  strength  of  our  position  in  olden  days. 

"  The  scandals  here  and  the  shameful  way  they 
were  brought  on  and  managed  will  always  remain 
a  stain  on  our  whole  nation.^ 

"  But  nevertheless  we  are  enjoying  life  and 
amusing  ourselves,  and  the  King's  [Edward] 
words  and  the  most  successful  English  exhibition 
of  English  old  masters  are  doing  a  great  deal.  It 
was  most  kind  of  you  to  send  me  all  those  flatter- 
ing cuttings.  The  exhibition  is  indeed  very  fine 
and  a  great  compliment  to  our  Emperor  and  to 
our  nation.  I  maintain  that  our  mutual  relation- 
ship [Verhaltniss]  can  only  be  well  based  on 
reciprocal  respect  and  recognition  [auf  gegensei- 
tiger  Achtung  und  gegenseitiger  Anerkennung] . 
The  Berliners  of  all  classes,  though  intensely 
uncultivated  in  art  matters   [kungstungebildet], 

*  References  to  the  disgraceful  Eulenburg  trial. 
214 


Unforeseen  Changes 

are  enjoying  the  Academy  on  the  Pariser  Platz, 
the  centre  of  Berlin,  very  much. 

"  A  pity  you  cannot  run  across  and  have  a 
glance  again  at  our  doings,  see  B.B.,  and  feel  the 
pulse  of  the  German  nation  [den  Pulsschlag  der 
Deutschen  Nation  anfiihlen],  you  who  know 
Germany  so  well.  Changes  all  over  the  world 
are  very  rapid  and  things  turn  up  in  unforeseen 
manner.  We  all  live  in  an  automobile.  Yet  I 
trust  you  are  well  and  picking  up  again  in  your 
widowed  life,  your  children  being  a  comfort  and 
a  blessing.  Let  me  hear  that  this  is  the  case,  and 
let  me  tell  you  that  the  number  of  your  friends 
here  is  not  decreasing  in  1908.  Auf  baldiges 
Wiedersehen. — Very  sincerely  yours, 

'*  G.  Seckendorff." 

"1  Oberwallstrasse,  Berlin, 

"  October  ISth,  1908. 
"  Dear  Mr.  Sidney  Whitman, — Having  re- 
turned here,  I  am  at  last  able  to  tell  you  with 
thanks  that  all  you  have  so  kindly  sent  duly  reached 
me,  and  I  need  not  say  that  I  read  them  with 
great  interest.  If  one  could  only  talk  about  it  all 
in  a  quiet  way,  like  we  did  when  we  met  at  the 
well-known  place  where  you  spent  so  many  weeks 
when  at  Berlin.  I  have  been  away  for  a  long 
time — Bavaria,  the  Tyrolese  hills,  the  Italian  lakes 
— and  have  seen  as  yet  little  of  my  friends  here. 
But  in  a  few  days  all  are  to  meet  here  for  the 
Royal  wedding. 


Things  I  Remember 

''  The  events  in  the  East  struck  us  all  like 
lightning,  but  I  am  sure  no  thunderstorm  is  to 
come  out  of  it.  I  wonder  whether  these  disturb- 
ances have  taken  you  off  to  watch  the  doings  on 
the  spot,  and  whether  there  is  any  chance  of  seeing 
you  here  again?  It  would  be  charming  to  have  a 
little  talk  again. 

''What  lovely  autumn  weather!  Berlin  feels 
like  summer,  and  I  wish  it  could  remain  like  it  for 
many  months  to  come. 

"  Let  me  hear  that  you  are  well  and  active, 
and  believe  me,  very  sincerely  yours, 

"  G.  Seckendorff." 

It  was,  perhaps,  owing  to  these  exceptional 
connections,  together  with  a  constant  change  of 
scene,  that  I  came  to  look  upon  things  in  a 
detached  frame  of  mind  and  fancied  I  detected 
certain  "indicia"  (to  use  a  medical  term)  of 
abnormality  in  Berlin,  portending  impending 
change,  if  not  catastrophe.  Of  such  signs  we 
read  as  premonitory  of  the  great  cataclysms 
of  history,  notably  in  the  period  immediately 
preceding  the  French  Revolution,  a  subject  which 
I  used  to  discuss  with  Count  Seckendorff,  for 
his  interest  in  European  history  was  fully  on 
a  par  with  my  own.  The  notorious  Collier  de 
Perles  scandal,  which  did  so  much  to  prejudice 
Marie  Antoinette,  had  found  its  counterpart  in 
the  revolting  Kotze  case,  which  had  resulted  in 
one  of  the  parties  being  shot  dead  in  a  duel.    For 

216 


A  Shadow  of  Eulenburg 

the  Emperor  had  annulled  the  verdict  of  the  Court 
of  Honour,  the  president  of  which  was  a  brother 
of  the  late  King  of  Roumania,  and  which  had 
endeavoured  to  settle  the  matter  according  to  the 
dictates  of  equity  and  common  sense.  This  did 
not  suit  His  Majesty,  for  he  instituted  a  second 
Commission,  which,  under  moral  pressure,  brought 
about  a  duel  and  resulted — at  least,  according  to 
English  and  American  law — in  a  clear  case  of 
murder.  Then,  again,  the  sinister  figure  of  the 
Marquis  de  Sade  had  been  duplicated  in  the 
person  of  ''Philli  "  Eulenburg,  in  complicity  with 
whom  it  was  sought  to  include  a  member  of 
the  French  Embassy  in  BerHn.  One  of  the  staff 
of  the  Embassy  called  at  the  Wilhelmstrasse  to 
remonstrate  against  such  a  disgraceful  imputation, 
and  spoke  his  mind  boldly  to  the  official  who 
received  him.  ''  Est  ce  que  vous  n'avez  pas 
honte,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Vous  savez  done  que  nous 
avons  du  faire  surveiller  votre  .  .  .  afin  de  le 
proteger  contre  les  consequences  de  ses  penchants 
clandestines."  [''Are  you  not  ashamed  of  your- 
selves, knowing  as  you  do  that  we  had  to  instruct 
detectives  in  Paris  specially  to  watch  over  and 
protect  .  .  .  against  the  consequences  of  his 
clandestine  proclivities."] 

But  there  was  an  even  more  significant  parallel 
with  the  past  to  be  noted  in  a  feature  which  strikes 
many  a  schoolboy,  in  his  reading  of  history,  with 
surprise.  People  living  in  any  period  marked 
by  national  decadence  have  apparently  remained 

217 


Things  I  Remember 

unconscious  of  the  abnormality  of  their  condition, 
despite  the  efforts  of  satirists.  So  also  here. 
Nobody  seemed  to  be  aware  that  there  was  any- 
thing particularly  amiss — or,  if  they  were,  it  was 
but  for  a  moment,  and  the  flash  of  realisation  had 
completely  faded  on  the  morrow.  The  statistics  of 
crime  of  this  period  are  terrible  enough,  but  the 
observer  was  more  struck  by  the  absence  of  any 
appreciation  of  what  these  portended  and  by  that 
confusion  of  thought  as  to  conduct,  right  and 
wrong,  which  suggests  the  normal  mind  under  an 
anaesthetic .  Strange  to  say,  this  hypnotic  influ- 
ence seemed  to  affect  some  foreign  journalists  in 
Berlin  almost  as  much  as  the  native  exponents  of 
pubhc  opinion,  fully  absorbed  as  they  were  in 
sun-worship — the  idolatry  of  the  brazen  image. 

Count  Seckendorff  told  me  a  few  startling 
facts,  besides  confirming  authoritatively  an  almost 
incredible  story  of  debauchery  in  high  places  which 
I  could  scarcely  credit  when  I  had  heard  it  earlier 
from  various  sources.  The  moral  situation  here 
revealed  recalled  one  of  the  blackest  pages  in 
Johannes  Scherr's  sensational  "  Deutsche  Cultur- 
Geschichte."  Seckendorff  was  disgusted  with  the 
vulgar  worship  of  money  in  quarters  where,  in  days 
of  old,  wealth  had  scarcely  exercised  any  influence 
at  all.  He  related  one  day,  and  laughed  heartily 
in  the  telling,  that  he  had  recently  dined  at  the 
house  of  one  of  the  wealthiest  Jew  upstarts  of  the 
capital,  and  he  could  assure  me  that,  socially 
speaking ;   ''I,  Count  Seckendorff — comme  vous 

2l3 


The  Emperor  and  the  Jews 

me  voyez — was  by  far  the  most  insignificant  per- 
sonage among  the  invited  guests.  The  others 
were  ever  so  much  higher  in  rank,  being  either 
dukes  or  princes."  It  was  to  this  very  family  of 
parvenus  that  a  recent  German  writer  referred 
in  extolling  the  Crown  Prince  for  his  intimacy 
with  them.  Whilst  the  Emperor  was  patting 
sundry  Hebrew  manipulators  on  the  back,  and 
they  were  held  up  as  his  political  confidants 
and  advisers,  a  most  virulent  form  of  Anti- 
Semitism  was  indulged  in  by  the  high  ladies  of 
the  Imperial  Court.  They  were  indignant  at  the 
favouritism  shown  to  the  Chosen  People,  and 
extravagant  in  their  hatred  and  denunciation  of 
the  long-suffering  Jewish  race. 

I  had  ample  opportunities,  however,  for 
probing  deeper  the  excited  conditions  of  the 
German  mind.  I  used  to  look  in  at  the  book- 
sellers' shops,  where,  as  a  political  writer,  I 
always  met  with  a  cordial  welcome  even  without 
making  a  purchase.  Now  and  then  I  gleaned 
much  instructive  information  in  casual  conversa- 
tion, for  the  Germans  are  great  readers,  and  of 
late  years  have  become  most  voracious  consumers 
of  books  and  pamphlets  of  a  political  character. 
Productions  which  would  only  obtain  a  hearing 
in  this  country  from  orators  in  Hyde  Park,  there 
have  circulated  in  their  fifty  and  hundred  thou- 
sands. One  hundred  thousand  copies  of  Houston 
Chamberlain's  ''Foundations  of  the  Nineteenth 
Century,"  I  was  told,  had  been  sold  at  20  marks 

^19 


Things  I  Remember 

each.  The  Emperor  himself  acted  as  gratuitous 
distributor.  It  was  nothing  unusual  for  a  novel 
of  so-called  patriotic  tendency  to  sell  20,000  to 
50,000  copies.  A  generation  of  scribblers  had 
grown  up,  among  whom  were  a  number  of  rene- 
gade Russians  who  exceeded  all  limits  of  good 
taste  in  their  viUfication  of  England  and  Russia 
and  their  Byzantine  glorification  of  the  Emperor. 
Notice  on  the  part  of  the  Emperor  or  the  Crown 
Prince  of  such  productions  had  come  to  be  worth 
the  sale  of  thousands  of  copies.  And  this  does  not 
take  into  account  the  enormous  output  of  erotic 
literature  which,  drawing  its  inspiration  from 
abroad  as  usual,  out-Heroded  Zola  and  Guy  de 
Maupassant  in  their  most  prurient  characteristics. 
The  Hotel  Continental  was  another  centre  for 
instructive  observation  as  to  the  trend  of  things. 
Here,  as  well  as  at  the  Hotel  Bristol,  were  the 
headquarters  of  the  elements  taking  part  in  the 
endless  Court  festivities  which  have  made  Berlin, 
under  William  II.,  the  most  attractive  capital  on 
the  Continent  for  a  certain  class  of  cosmopolitans. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  had  become  distasteful  to 
some  of  the  plain  living,  old  noble  families. 
They  used  to  come  from  the  provinces  to  Berlin 
every  New  Year  to  pay  their  personal  respects 
to  their  King,  but  now  they  avoid  the  capital. 
German  Sovereign  Princes  did  not  disdain  to 
take  up  their  abode  for  the  season  in  the  Hotel 
Continental,  on  which  occasions  a  sentry-box 
would  be  placed  at  the  door,  with  a  soldier  on 

220 


A  Princely  Bully 

guard  the  whole  time.  One  winter  Duke  Giinther 
of  Schleswig-Holstein,  brother  of  the  German 
Empress  and  brother-in-law  of  the  All-Highest, 
stayed  there  with  his  wife,  suite  and  servants,  as 
officially  entered  in  the  visitors'  list.  And  it  is 
with  regard  to  them  that  an  incident  seems  worth 
mentioning,  if  only  to  place  on  record  that  there 
were  still  men  in  Berlin  in  a  dependent  position 
who,  in  striking  contrast  to  the  servility  in  high 
places,  refused  to  be  bullied  or  even  to  take  orders 
from  such  exalted  personages.  One  day  the  Duke 
came  to  the  manager  of  the  hotel  in  a  state  of 
great  excitement  and  complained  in  violent  terms 
of  the  conduct  of  one  of  the  boy  attendants  of 
the  telephone.  "  I  want  you  to  wash  his  head 
well  for  him,"  His  Highness  ejaculated.  The 
manager,  who  had  already  been  informed  that 
the  Duke  and  Duchess,  as  well  as  their  suite  and 
servants,  were  all  day  long  on  the  telephone,  to 
the  inconvenience  and  annoyance  of  the  other 
guests,  replied  that  he  was  sorry  to  receive  a 
complaint  against  an  employe  of  the  hotel,  but 
he  would  look  into  the  matter.  The  boy's  blame- 
less conduct  having  been  established,  the  manager 
refused  point-blank  to  reprimand  him,  and  the 
Duke,  the  Duchess,  suite  and  servants  cleared  out 
shortly  afterwards. 

''  Commands  "  to  attend  Court  functions  of 
various  kinds  were  almost  daily  dehvered  at  the 
hotel,  and  some  queer  sights  were  vouchsafed 
to  the  guests,  who  saw  the  motley  crowd  of  the 

321 


Things  1  Remember 

^^  commanded"  of  both  sexes  waiting  in  the  hall 
— like  actors  in  the  * '  flies  "  of  a  theatre  ready  to 
go  on  the  stage — for  the  motor-car  to  take  them 
to  the  Palace  of  Delight.  Of  all  the  incongruous 
figures  among  those  whom  Artemus  Ward  might 
well  have  designated  as  being  in  the  *'  Show 
Business ' '  was  a  wizened  old  gentleman  dressed 
up  in  a  fantastic  Court  costume  reminiscent  of 
the  period  of  Louis  XIV.  With  emaciated  calves 
encased  in  white  silk  escarpins  and  patent  leather 
shoes,  he  was  to  be  seen  tripping  lightly  to  and 
fro  in  hilarious  conversation  with  a  couple  of  anti- 
quated duennas.  It  was  no  less  a  personage  than 
His  Excellency  Grand  Admiral  von  Koster,  Com- 
mander-in-Chief of  the  much-vaunted  Imperial 
High  Sea  Fleet — the  guiding  spirit  of  the  German 
Flotten-Verein — the  very  man  whom  William  had 
cunningly  dispatched  to  the  Fulton  Centenary  to 
take  precedence  of  the  British  naval  commander, 
an  intention  fortunately  frustrated.  Here  was  a 
great  man,  a  sailor  indeed  disguised  beyond  recog- 
nition; the  hero  of  untold  beer  carouses  (Beer 
Abende),  the  perpetrator  of  innumerable  patriotic 
''Hurrah!"  speeches — the  very  embodiment  of 
Imperial  swelled-head  world  ambitions.  Bacchus 
and  even  the  Beer  God  Gambrinus  have  been 
immortalised  in  verse  and  song,  but  the  inspired 
poet  has  yet  to  arise  to  do  justice  to  the  important 
part  which  Alcohol  in  all  its  spirituous  forms  has 
played  in  this  pandemonium  of  patriotic  revelry. 
The  theatre  as  keystone  of  this  gigantic  tragi- 

222 


Count  Hulsen  Haeseler 

comedy  has  not  as  yet  received  its  due  at  the 
hands  of  an  idol-worshipping  Press.  Particularly 
is  this  the  case  with  regard  to  a  very  important 
personage,  one  who,  though  rarely  seen,  has  long 
been  the  deputy  moving  spirit,  the  rdgisseur,  the 
general  manager  of  the  Greatest  Show  on  Earth. 
It  is  not  quite  fair  that  Max  Reinhardt  and  other 
successful  theatrical  self-advertisers  should  reap 
all  the  fame  and  publicity  of  a  profession  which 
has  come  to  be  the  high  road  to  honours  hitherto 
exclusively  reserved  for  statesmen,  soldiers  and 
scientists.  Now  that  Barnum  is  no  more.  Count 
Hulsen  Haeseler  is  undoubtedly  the  greatest 
man  in  the  world  in  the  Show  Business.  The 
enumeration  of  his  many  functions  as  General 
Intendant  of  the  Royal  Theatres  of  Berlin,  Wies- 
baden, Cassel  and  Hanover ;  as  General  Intendant 
of  the  Royal  Court  music ;  as  Court  Chamberlain 
of  his  Imperial  and  Royal  Majesty ;  as  Major  in 
the  Army  (the  list  of  his  honours,  his  decorations, 
his  orders,  crosses  and  stars  set  in  brilliants  takes 
up  forty  closely  printed  lines  in  the  German 
''Who's  Who"),  constitutes  a  stupendous  array 
of  monarchical  recognition  and  distinctions.  And 
yet  it  is  only  commensurate  with  the  extent  of  his 
far-reaching  influence  and  power,  for  they  include 
the  sitting  in  judgment  as  final  arbiter  on  the 
productions  of  every  musical  and  dramatic  writer 
in  the  kingdom  of  Prussia. 

As  in  the  case  of  most  great  men,  Georg  von 
Iliilsen  came  from  small  beginnings.     He  started 

22^ 


Things  I  Remember 

life,  like  Napoleon,  as  a  simple  impecunious 
lieutenant;  he  has  lived  to  receive  the  identical 
reward  from  his  Sovereign  v^hich  the  latter 's 
grandfather  deemed  adequate  in  the  case  of  Bis- 
marck for  laying  the  foundation  of  the  German 
Empire  :  the  title  of  Count. 

A  many-sided,  versatile  personage  of  most 
insinuating  manners — as  I  can  testify  from  per- 
sonal experience — Count  Hiilsen  Haeseler  is  said 
to  be  a  master  of  intrigue.  But,  whether  this  be 
so  or  not,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  as  the 
stage-manager  of  "  Sardanapalus  "  he  looms  large 
and  deserves  to  live  in  the  annals  of  Imperial 
theatricality ! 

It  is  only  a  short  step  from  the  theatre  to 
the  waxworks  in  the  Imperial  Arcade,  Unter  den 
Linden.  One  of  its  most  alluring  features  was  a  re- 
production of  a  well-known  picture  in  the  National 
Gallery  of  the  Prussian  capital :  ''Die  Jagd  nach 
dem  Gliick,"  by  Henneberg,  the  very  fact  of  its 
reproduction  speaking  volumes  as  to  the  applica- 
tion of  the  subject  to  latter-day  conditions  in  the 
German  Empire.  The  picture  shows  a  knight  on 
horseback  galloping  across  a  frail,  narrow  wooden 
bridge  in  pursuit  of  a  beautiful  female  figure 
poised  in  mid-air  over  a  golden  ball.  She  bears 
the  crown  of  fortune  in  her  outstretched  right 
hand,  while  a  shower  of  golden  coins  falls  from 
her  left.  Her  head  is  turned  seductively  toward 
the  knight,  who,  with  eagerly  extended  body,  is 
endeavouring  to  reach  her,  whilst  his  legitimate 

224 


The  Dail^  Telegraph  Interview 

bride  is  portrayed  lying  unconscious  on  the 
ground,  to  be  ridden  over  in  the  next  moment 
and  crushed  by  his  horse's  hoofs.  But  a  tragic 
fate  awaits  the  reckless  rider,  for  Death,  wrapped 
in  a  black,  flowing  mantle,  is  riding  close  by  his 
side,  and  has  almost  laid  hold  of  him  already.  In 
another  instant  the  knight  will  be  precipitated 
into  the  yawning  abyss  below.  The  dim  outline 
of  an  old  castle  visible  in  the  background  denotes 
the  erstwhile  knight's  former  residence  before  he 
undertook  his  fatal  death-ride. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  in  November, 
1908,  the  Dailtj  Telegraph  published  an  interview 
with  the  Emperor  which  was  the  sensation  of  more 
than  a  day.  Indeed,  it  took  rank  as  a  topic  of 
international  interest  with  the  marvellous  exploit 
of  the  famous  cobbler  of  Kopenick,  which  caused 
the  whole  world  to  burst  into  ironic  laughter. 
The  Daihj  Telegraph  interview  made  such  a  stir 
that  it  completely  overshadowed  an  even  more 
starthng  bit  of  Imperial  make-believe :  the 
almost  simultaneous  interview  with  His  Majesty 
in  the  American  monthly  magazine.  The  Century, 
Copies  of  this  American  interview  are  still  ex- 
tant, although  the  whole  edition  was  said  to  have 
been  bought  up  by  the  German  Government  and 
destroyed.  Read  in  the  light  of  later  events,  both 
these  incidents  may  be  considered  as  among  the 
premonitions  of  the  world  catastrophe  through 
which  we  are  now  passing. 

The  authorship  of  the  Daily  Telegraph  inter- 

p  225 


Things  I  Remember 

view  was  ascribed  to  a  number  of  persons,  and 
among  others  to  the  writer  of  these  pages.  It 
was  scarcely  a  compUment  to  anyone's  intelligence 
to  be  deemed  capable  of  having  fathered  such  a 
potpourri  of  contradictions,  but  there  it  was. 
Journalists  called  at  my  house,  telegraphed  to  me 
in  the  middle  of  the  night  asking  whether  I  was 
responsible,  or  whether  I  could  at  least  indicate 
the  author  of  the  mischief.  The  only  answer  I 
could  give  was  that  I  knew  nothing  whatever 
about  the  ridiculous  business  and  that  it  did 
not  interest  me.  Indeed,  I  remain  to  this  very 
day  in  complete  ignorance  as  to  who  was  respon- 
sible for  the  Daily  Telegraph  interview,  although 
I  have  heard  many  guesses  on  the  subject.  I 
was  innocent,  and  am  still  ignorant,  of  its  true 
authorship.  But  a  significant  rumour  was  brought 
to  my  knowledge  some  time  afterwards  which,  if 
based  on  truth — and  the  source  from  which  it 
came  should  entitle  it  to  some  credence — would 
tend  to  show  that  something  I  had  written  was 
not  wholly  unconnected  with  the  pubhcation  of 
the  Daily  Telegraph  interview.  The  matter,  as 
explained  to  me,  was  as  follows  : 

The  momentous  "conversation"  I  had  with 
Prince  Biilow  in  the  preceding  month  of  August 
at  Norderney,  which  appeared  in  extenso  in  the 
Standard  (September  14th,  1908),  was  said  to  have 
been  telegraphed  by  Wolff's  Bureau  to  over  a 
thousand  German  newspapers.  The  subject-matter 
contained  a  passage  in  which  I  cited  a  remark  of 

226 


What  Bismarck  Said 

Bismarck's  which  might  fairly  have  been  taken 
to  reflect  on  the  German  Emperor  as  a  peace- 
endangering  influence.  This  passage,  I  was  in- 
formed, had  attracted  the  notice  of  His  Majesty, 
and  his  irritation  having  been  fanned  by  his 
entourage,  he  had  taken  a  determination  to 
issue  an  effectual  counterblast,  which  the  Daily 
Telegraph  interview  was  intended  to  supply.  I 
am  not  called  upon  to  decide  whether  this  is  so 
or  not,  but  if  such  be  indeed  the  real  facts  of  the 
case,  I  fear  I  must  plead  guilty  to  having  been 
indirectly  instrumental  in  contributing  to  a  signal 
discomfiture  of  the  most  dangerous  foe  England 
has  faced  since  Napoleon.  Indeed,  I  cannot  con- 
clude this  chapter  more  fittingly  than  by  repro- 
ducing Bismarck's  exact  words  in  connection  with 
this  matter.  As  a  key  to  one  of  the  causes  which 
have  led  up  to  the  war,  it  would  bear  constant 
repetition  for  some  time  to  come ;  for  the  infection 
has  spread  to  our  shores,  and  smashing  the  idol 
by  no  means  ehminates  the  idolaters. 

''Only  no  cock  of  the  walk  business"  (Bis- 
marck used  this  term  in  English),  '*  Europe  as 
an  entity  would  resent  a  situation  as  derogatory, 
if  not  intolerable,  in  which  it  might  come  to 
pass  that  an  individual  arrogated  to  himself  the 
attribute  of  being  supreme  arbiter  of  war  and 
peace,  the  latter  to  depend  upon  his  benevolent 
intentions  periodically  vouchsafed  to  the  w^orld  as 
a  free  gift  to  be  received  in  an  attitude  of  grateful 
humility." 

227 


CHAPTER   XV 

W.    T.    STEAD 

The  Press  is  so  often  accused  of  breeding  discord 
that  my  journalistic  recollections  would  be  incom- 
plete without  an  appreciative  reference  to  one 
whose  life's  work  was  devoted  towards  furthering 
peace  and  goodwill,  freedom  and  justice  among 
men,  even  when  his  championship  of  the  latter 
exposed  him  to  vilification  and  slander. 

My  recollection  of  Mr.  Stead  takes  me  back 
nearly  thirty  years,  when  I  was  wont  to  attend 
Madame  Olga  Novikoff's  ''At  Homes."  She 
would  speak  in  glowing  terms  of  her  good  friend. 
Stead — who,  together  with  Mr.  Gladstone,  sup- 
ported her  efforts  to  bring  about  the  better  under- 
standing between  England  and  Russia  which  has 
now  become  a  potent  reality.  Others  were  less 
favourably  disposed  towards  ' '  that  good  man 
Stead  "  in  those  days.  His  agitation  in  the  Tail 
Mall  Gazette  over  ''The  Maiden  Tribute  of 
Modern  Babylon"  had  caused  much  public  dis- 
cussion. It  led  to  his  detention  in  Hollo  way 
Prison,  thus  enabling  him  to  get  a  foretaste  of 
what  martyrs  may  expect : 

**  Truth  for  ever  on  the  scaffold, 
Wrong  for  ever  on  the  throne." 
228 


A  Prophet  of  Federation 

Many  people  expressed  their  ''doots"  about 
Mr.  Stead's  judgment.  They  saw  in  him  nothing 
more  than  a  notoriety-hunting  journalist,  anxious 
for  his  daily  sensation.  He  was  a  rabid  Noncon- 
formist, they  said,  a  crank  whose  head  had  been 
turned  by  success.  To-day  there  would  be  few  of 
this  body  of  critics  who  would  care  to  recall  their 
earlier  estimates  of  a  man  whose  calm  and  self- 
sacrifice  in  the  hour  of  death  have  hallowed  his 
memory  in  the  eyes  of  his  countrymen. 

William  Stead  was  of  a  truth  a  thinker  and 
reformer  who  found  in  journalism  a  unique  pulpit 
enabling  him  to  stamp  his  personality  on  his  time. 
Few  men  in  any  walk  of  life  have  seen  so  many 
of  their  aims  come  to  fruition  in  their  own  lives. 
Mr.  Stead  was  among  the  first  and  most  effective 
agitators  for  an  enlargement  of  the  British  Navy. 
The  first  of  the  great  naval  programmes  which 
built  up  our  supremacy  on  the  sea  owed  more  to 
his  advocacy  than  to  that  of  any  other  man,  and 
his  burning  conviction  that  our  Navy  was  our 
all  in  all  never  left  him,  even  in  the  times  when 
he  was  the  most  earnest,  if  also  the  most  flamboy- 
ant, advocate  of  peace  between  the  nations. 

He  also  preached  the  federation  of  the  British 
Empire  to  a  world  not  free  of  the  notion  that 
Colonies  were  a  rather  troublesome  possession. 
The  outcome  of  his  work  in  this  direction  is  to  be 
read  in  the  way  in  which  the  Colonies  have  rushed 
to  the  aid  of  the  Mother  Country.  Only  fe\v 
realised  in  this  country  that  he  was  a  force  more 

229 


Things  I  Remember 

potent  than  diplomats  and  statesmen  in  influenc- 
ing the  good  relations  between  Great  Britain  and 
the  United  States.  A  prolific  contributor  to 
American  journals,  he  exercised  a  direct  sway 
through  the  American  edition  of  the  Review  of 
Reviews,  which  enjoyed  in  the  States  a  popularity 
and  authority  even  greater  than  that  of  the  parent 
magazine. 

Inevitably  William  Stead  encountered  oppo- 
sition and  detraction.  The  majority,  which  never 
has  and  never  will  see  things,  is  always  against  the 
seer  who  can  peep  into  the  future.  As  has  been 
said  by  a  great  thinker :  "  Wise  men  of  all  times 
have  said  the  same  thing,  and  fools,  that  is  to  say 
the  vast  majority,  have  always  done  the  same  thing 
— namely,  the  exact  opposite.  And  thus  it  is  likely 
to  remain." 

In  Mr.  Stead's  case,  as  in  that  of  so  many 
other  remarkable  men,  it  may  be  truthfully  said 
that  mediocrity  is  ever  the  persistent  depreciator 
of  the  ''first-rater."  It  is  as  if  a  sure  instinct — 
animal-like  in  its  unerring  keenness — impelled  the 
time-serving  commonplacer  to  scent  a  dangerous 
rival  in  the  first-class  man.  And  it  is  by  the  aid 
of  such  detractors,  rather  than  by  the  incense  of 
his  panegyrists,  that  we  are  often  able  to  get  at 
his  inner  spiritual  value.  We  need  the  green  hue 
of  envy,  the  black  venom  of  the  detractor,  as  a 
background  to  light  up  the  countenance  of  strong 
men. 

Of  the  journalist,  as  of  the  actor,  it  may  con- 
230 


Stead's  High  National  Aim 

fidently  be  said  that  posterity  rarely  weaves  wreaths 
in  his  honour.  But  I  make  bold  to  say  that  nobody 
who  knew  Mr.  Stead  would  wilhngly  let  his 
memory  fade.  It  would  be  obviously  impossible 
to  obliterate  the  good  work  he  did  in  his  life ;  we 
need  only  remember  the  stupendous  energy,  the 
immense  output  of  the  man,  the  number  of  sub- 
jects he  made  his  own  and  upon  which  he  left  his 
mark — every  one  of  them  fraught  with  some  deep 
human  interest  or  high  national  aim — in  order  to 
feel  that,  take  him  all  in  all,  we  shall  not  easily 
look  upon  his  hke  again. 

I  came  into  personal  touch  with  Mr.  Stead 
shortly  after  joining  the  Herald,  and  the  last  time 
I  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  being  in  his  company 
was  one  Sunday  evening  at  his  house  in  Smith 
Square,  shortly  before  he  started  on  his  ill- 
fated  journey  on  the  Titanic.  Several  American 
journalists  were  among  the  invited,  besides  a 
member  of  the  Young  Turkish  Parliament  and 
sundry  other  personages  of  both  sexes  interested 
in  one  or  other  of  Mr.  Stead's  pet  schemes  for 
social  improvement.  A  friendly  discussion  on 
Eastern  affairs  took  place,  over  which  Mr.  Stead 
presided  with  his  genial  good  humour;  altogether 
a  most  pleasing  gathering.  ''  I  hope  to  see  you 
all  here  again  on  my  return  from  the  United 
States,"  were  his  parting  words.  Alas!  a  wish 
never  to  be  realised. 

Among  the  many  proofs,  if  such  were  needed, 
of   Mr.   Stead's   genuine  fibre  was   his   sense  of 

231 


Things  I  Remember 

humour.  Not  every  sincere  man  possesses  this 
priceless  gift  of  the  gods,  but  genuine  humour 
almost  precludes  insincerity,  for  its  basis  is  an 
honest  estimate  of  things  and  of  one's  own  self. 
Humour  thus  confers  immunity  from  '*  swelled 
head."  It  was  in  connection  with  this  danger — 
against  which  the  journalist  has  ever  to  be  on  his 
guard — that  Mr.  Stead  told  me  the  following 
anecdote  about  Lord  Northcliffe. 

"  You  must,  please,  not  believe  that  success 
has  turned  my  head,  or  that  I  fancy  myself 
a  genius,"  said  his  lordship  one  day  to  Mr. 
Stead.  "I  believe,  however,  that  I  possess  one 
little  gift  which  suffices  to  accoimt  for  all  I 
have  accomplished.  This  is  that  when  I  am  in  a 
railway  carriage  and  look  at  my  fellow  travellers 
I  feel  I  can  instinctively  tell  what  they  want,  and 
somehow  I  know  how  to  supply  them  with  it." 

Mr.  Stead  believed  Lord  Northcliffe  to  be 
sincere  when  he  spoke  thus,  but  was  of  opinion 
that  in  making  this  statement  he  overlooked  his 
own  phenomenal  ability — let  us  say  his  genius — as 
a  newspaper  organiser.  But,  whether  Lord  North- 
cliffe was  serious  or  joking,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  this  trifling  incident  does  in  truth  go  a  long 
way  towards  explaining  the  extraordinary  success 
of  the  greatest  journalistic  provider  of  our  time; 
whilst  at  the  same  time  it  illustrates  the  difference 
between  Mr.  Stead,  whose  journalism  was  pro- 
pagandism  at  white  heat,  and  the  man  who  gives 
the  public  what  he  believes  the  public  want. 

232 


Bieberstein  and  the  British  PresiS 

During  the  last  International  Conference  at 
The  Hague  I  met  Mr.  Stead  one  morning  at 
Temple  Station  looking  very  glum.  He  had  just 
returned  from  Holland,  and  was  much  perturbed 
by  the  trend  of  affairs  at  the  Conference,  where 
he  said  the  English  were  being  outclassed  and  put 
in  the  shade  by  the  Germans.  The  British  senior 
delegate  had  received  the  English  journalists  "  in 
corpore  "  and  snubbed  them.  Some  of  them,  as 
Mr.  Stead  said,  thought  ''no  small  beer"  of 
themselves,  and  were  considerably  huffed  in  con- 
sequence. On  leaving  Sir  Edward  Fry's  presence 
they  gave  loud  expression  to  their  ill-humour; 
whereupon  they  w^ere  approached  by  a  German 
journalist,  who  asked  them  why  they  did  not  call 
on  the  first  German  delegate,  who,  he  felt  sure, 
would  be  only  too  pleased  to  see  them.  The  idea 
of  being  received  by  a  full-blown  Ambassador, 
after  a  snub  from  one  who,  in  comparison,  was 
''small  fry"  indeed,  appealed  to  the  knights  of 
the  pen,  so  they  lost  no  time  in  taking  the  hint  to 
call  on  Baron  Marschall  von  Bieberstein,  who  had 
come  from  Constantinople  expressly  to  represent 
German  interests  at  The  Hague  Conference.  The 
result  of  their  cordial  reception  and  the  dexterous 
treatment  they  experienced  at  his  hands,  flatter- 
ing them  to  the  top  of  their  bent,  led,  as  is  well 
known,  to  a  tremendous  newspaper  boom  for  the 
German  delegate.  In  the  course  of  his  narrative, 
told  in  Mr.  Stead's  inimitable  way,  he  forgot  all 
about  his  patriotic  misgivings  and  laughed  heartily 

233 


Things  I  Remember 

over  the  German  diplomat's  success  in  playing 
upon  human  vanity. 

The  folly  of  man  as  a  worshipper  of  brute  force 
roused  Stead's  sense  of  incongruity  and  provoked 
his  mirth.  Walking  down  the  Strand  one  day, 
he  told  me  that  when  he  was  in  Chicago  he 
inspected  the  great  slaughterhouses  in  that  city. 
Oxen  possess  a  very  keen  sense  of  blood,  and  when 
driven  to  the  slaughterhouse  they  are  apt  to 
become  restive  and  try  to  get  away.  Specially 
trained  oxen  are  made  to  lead  the  herd  down  the 
incline  which  leads  to  the  shambles,  and  suddenly 
to  turn  off  at  a  gate  and  slip  aside,  whereas  the 
others  are  pushed  on  to  their  doom.  The  decoy 
animal  is  known  as  the  "  Judas  ox."  Mr.  Stead 
dilated  on  this  cunning  dodge,  and  compared  the 
Judas  ox  with  the  modern  war-lords,  who  are 
extremely  careful  of  their  own  skins  while  their 
subjects  are  pushed  to  the  shambles.  He  thought 
wars  might  be  brought  to  an  end  when  nations 
arrange  to  put  their  bellicose  war-lords  into  an 
arena  and  let  them  carry  their  own  skins  to  market 
and  fight  out  their  quarrels,  while  their  subjects 
look  on  at  the  spectacle  as  at  any  other  variety 
show  in  the  cities. 

Mr.  Stead's  grim  parallel  has  proved  to  be  a 
prophetic  forecast  of  things  to  come,  for  there  has 
never  been  a  war  in  which  so  few  of  the  Judas 
oxen  have  lost  their  lives  as  in  the  present  conflict, 
or  one  which  has  been  such  safe  sport  to  the  top 
crust   that   provoked   it,    and   of   such   an   awful 

234 


Stead  and  the  Tsar 

character  for  the  ruck — the  cannon  fodder  dragged 
to  the  shambles.  This  was  very  different  in  other 
days.  At  the  battle  of  Jena  both  the  Prussian 
Commander-in-Chief,  the  Duke  of  Brunswick, 
and  Prince  Louis  Ferdinand  of  Hohenzollern  lost 
their  lives ;  and  in  1866  Prince  Anton  of  Hohen- 
zollern, a  brother  of  the  King  of  Roumania,  was 
killed  at  Sadowa. 

There  was  something  compelling  and  com- 
manding about  the  very  appearance  of  WilUam 
Stead,  in  spite  of  his  indifference  to  the  para- 
phernalia of  clothes,  something  leonine  in  that 
countenance  that  revealed  dauntless  courage.  In 
the  mesmeric  lustre  of  his  wonderful  blue  eyes 
there  gleamed  a  reminder  of  the  Northern  Viking, 
the  Scandinavian  stock  which  is  so  largely  repre- 
sented in  that  particular  part  of  England  whence 
he  came.  His  descent  gave  him  that  touch  of 
the  visionary,  of  the  dreamer,  which  was  always 
present  with  him,  even  when  he  was  most 
practical.  Yes,  Mr.  Stead  was  a  dreamer,  but  a 
dreamer  of  those  dreams  which  have  a  knack  of 
coming  true. 

"  Oh,  I  do  wish  I  could  help  that  poor  young 
man!"  he  exclaimed  to  a  friend  in  Moscow  in 
1905,  referring  to  the  predicament  of  the  Tsar  in 
the  face  of  revolution.  The  presumption  of  a 
hard-working  journalist  wishing  he  could  help  an 
Emperor!  Surely  the  man  was  dreaming!  Yet 
the  dream  has  come  true  in  our  time,  for  the 
Tsar  has  found  salvation  in  the  devotion  of  his 

^35 


Things  I  Remember 

people,  and  his  star  is  in  the  ascendant.  Mr. 
Stead  was  only  true  to  himself  when  he  pitied  a 
monarch  who  was  afraid  to  walk  abroad  in  his 
capital. 

He  was,  perhaps,  dreaming  again  when  he 
pinned  his  faith  to  spirits.  The  tender-hearted 
father  assured  me  that  he  was  in  constant  com- 
munication with  his  dead  son,  and  who  can  be 
sure  that  such  a  dream  may  not  come  true? 

Yes,  a  dreamer  in  the  same  sense  as  Giordano 
Bruno,  Savonarola,  Peter  of  Amiens  and  a  few 
others.  This  is  to  say  that  Mr.  Stead  was  one  of 
a  type  which,  when  they  attempt  to  enlighten  us 
to-day,  are  likely  to  find  their  way  to  the  Thames 
Embankment  for  a  night's  lodging,  if  not  to  a 
police  court  under  the  Vagrancy  Act.  In  this 
sense  Mr.  Stead  could  fairly  be  classed  among  the 
greatest  failures  of  our  time,  and  if  he  did  not 
share  their  predestined  fate  it  was  owing  to  a 
certain  knack  of  turning  out  journalistic  "  copy," 
the  doing  of  which  enabled  him  to  earn  a  modest 
livelihood  for  self  and  family.  For  our  public 
service  schedules  have  little  appreciation  for 
dreamers  of  this  type.  They  do  not  even  come 
within  the  scope  of  the  beggarly  Civil  List  pension 
fund  for  broken-down  literary  men.  Visionaries 
do  not  appeal  to  the  self-seeking  instincts  of  men 
who  award  huge  pensions  to  successful  lawyers 
and  politicians. 

Ample  are  the  testimonies  to  Mr.  Stead's 
inflexible  adherence  to  the  aims  to  which  he  had 

236 


The  Rhodes  Bequest 

once  committed  himself,  and  among  these  none 
are,  perhaps,  so  striking  and  convincing  as  those 
revealed  by  his  relations  with  Cecil  Rhodes,  who 
was  his  very  opposite  in  almost  every  way.  But 
the  Empire  Builder  was  capable  of  recognising 
human  worth  in  one  so  different  from  himself. 
Thus  the  great  realist  was  attracted  towards 
Stead,  the  visionary,  and  appointed  him  to  be 
one  of  the  executors  of  his  will  as  co-administrator 
of  his  colossal  fortune,  a  nomination  which  carried 
with  it  a  handsome  annuity,  meaning  independ- 
ence for  the  recipient  and  his  family.  That  Cecil 
Rhodes  annulled  the  appointment  before  his  death 
affords  us  additional  proof  of  Mr.  Stead's  integrity. 
No  consideration  of  self  could  stop  him  from 
opposing  the  political  action  of  Mr,  Rhodes  in 
South  Africa. 

Women  were  instinctively  attracted  towards 
Mr.  Stead  because  he  was  a  dreamer — a  dreamer 
of  beautiful  dreams  for  their  future  in  which  they 
should  hold  a  fairer  field,  fulfil  a  nobler  mission 
and  be  more  fitted  for  its  possibilities  than  many 
of  our  countrywomen  are  to-day.  The  sunless 
isolation  in  which  so  many  Englishwomen  of  small 
means  are  doomed  to  pass  their  lives  aroused 
his  pity.  He  pleaded  for  evening  social  inter- 
course, for  comradeship  between  the  sexes,  for 
better  education,  for  the  opening  of  the  gates 
that  women  might  play  a  larger  part  in  the  work 
of  the  world.  If  ever  man  sincerely  believed  in 
the  salvation  of  a  race  by  its  women,  that  man 

237 


Things  I  Remember 

was  Stead.  The  service  he  gave  to  this  cause  drew 
women  to  him,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest. 
When  a  Russian  Empress — Queen  Alexandra's 
sister — came  to  London,  she  would  ask  Mr.  Stead 
to  come  to  Buckingham  Palace  just  for  a  friendly 
chat :  for  high-class  women  often  possess  a  keener 
sense  of  inner  values  than  many  a  man,  and  prize 
the  companionship  of  such  beyond  the  trumpery 
glamour  of  worldly  station.  It  comes  as  a  relief 
to  them  from  the  dull  monotony  of  insincerity  by 
which  they  are  surrounded. 

His  faith  in  woman  has  been  highly  justified, 
as  has  been  justified  his  belief  that  Germany 
would  make  war  and  that  Russia  was  sincere  in 
her  desire  for  peace.  It  is  the  women  who  have 
nurtured  the  men  who  have  gone  out  to  fight,  the 
women  who  have  taken  up  the  tasks  of  peace  laid 
down  by  the  workers.  Their  soul  is  in  the  race, 
and  it  is  to  that  soul,  formed  in  manse  and  cottage, 
that  we  look  for  triumph.  Where  many  other 
things  that  have  been  tried  in  this  furnace  have 
not  stood  the  test — our  intellectual  leadership,  our 
scientific  knowledge,  our  national  organisation — 
the  qualities  which  have  been  infused  into  the  race 
by  its  women  have  upheld  the  nation.  Faith  and 
veracity  are  the  watchwords  which  we  hold  to, 
despite  our  romancing  news  agencies.  Faith  which 
bids  us  plant  a  standard  of  hope  on  the  brink  of 
the  open  grave — and  behold  a  choir  of  angels 
gleaming  through  the  rift  of  coffins  rent  asunder. 
This  it  is  which  endows  us  with  the  spirit  to 

238 


A  Pioneer  of  Purity 

challenge   the  great  issue — ''  O  death,   where  is 
thy  sting?    O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory?" 

It  is  meet  to  know  that  the  man  who  was  a 
foremost  pioneer  in  this  great  fight  has  not  gone 
under  in  oblivion,  as  so  many  have  done.  His 
memory  is  still  green,  for  a  year  after  his  death 
a  pious  gathering,  representative  of  the  English- 
speaking  race  from  London  to  the  Pacific  Ocean 
coast,  came  together  in  a  spirit  of  brotherhood  on 
the  very  spot  where  Mr.  Stead  met  his  death. 
They  cast  wreaths  into  the  deep  blue  waters — 
wTcaths  sacred  to  his  memory  and  that  of  the 
gallant  fight  he  made  for  the  betterment  of  man 
and  woman;  for  he  too  was  a  fighter,  a  w^arrior, 
but  it  w^as  as  one  in  the  great  Army  of  the  Future, 
warring  against  the  Powers  of  Darkness,  Disease, 
Drunkenness,  and  every  other  form  of  human 
suffering  and  degradation. 


'■39 


CHAPTER  XVI 

JAMES   GORDON   BENNETT 

Ever  since  Norman  Plantagenet  times  the  English 
race  has  brought  forth  a  type  of  man  which,  by 
strength  of  will,  by  masterful  temperament  com- 
bined with  rare  mental  qualities,  has  achieved  a 
moral  ascendancy  over  and  dominated  other  men. 
The  United  States  has  produced  a  large  number 
of  these  super-men  in  her  Presidents,  her  railway 
magnates,  her  steel  and  petroleum  kings,  and,  not 
least,  her  great  newspaper  proprietors,  who,  with 
very  few  exceptions,  have  all  been  of  English, 
Scottish  or  North  Irish  descent.  Some  of  these 
strenuous  personalities  find,  like  Alexander  of 
Macedon,  their  own  country  too  narrow  in 
opportunities  to  enable  them  to  develop  their 
full  potentiaUties ;  they  come  to  Europe.  Those 
who  are  in  search  of  social  incense — the  dolce 
far  niente  of  aristocratic  surroundings — choose 
England  for  their  place  of  residence,  their  place 
of  worship,  the  *'only  place  fit  for  a  gentleman 
to  live  in,"  as  one  of  them  has  declared.  Others 
give  their  preference  to  the  Continent.  It  is 
this  type  of  American  Colossus  which  engages  a 
German  count  to  look  after  his  horses,  a  German 

240 


A  Born  Journalist 

countess  to  look  after  his  children,  and  an  Italian 
duke  to  act  as  his  major-domo ;  or  he  may  indulge 
his  fancy  for  travel — take  a  liking  to  some  out- 
landish place,  ask  the  price  of  the  lot,  and  buy 
it  outright,  lock,  stock  and  barrel :  the  whole 
principality,  with  the  Mpret  thrown  in — who  is 
kept  on  the  establishment  as  a  sort  of  superior 
commissionaire.  If  our  puper-man  possesses  a 
taste  for  dominating  the  mind  rather  than  the 
body  of  men,  he  will  start  a  newspaper,  and  carry 
it  on  even  at  a  loss,  just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing, 
to  amuse  himself,  and  call  it  his  ''  Baby."  Such, 
in  rough  outline,  is  the  case  of  Mr.  James  Gordon 
Bennett  and  the  Paris  Herald. 

A    born    newspaper    man,    Mr.    Bennett    is 

possessed  of  an  uncommon  sense  in  estimating 

values  of  every  kind.    A  Nasmyth  hammer  which 

smashes  through  the  skull  of  a  mammoth  and  taps 

a  new-laid  egg  so  gently  as  not  to  break  the  shell 

— he  will  make  you  a  present  of  a  year's  salary  in 

return  for  an  opportune  happy  thought,  or  call  a 

correspondent  over  the  coals  for  putting  an  extra 

postage  stamp  on  a  letter.    He  has  been  known  to 

spend  a  hundred  pounds  on  a  cable  to  gratify  the 

wish  of  a  lady  guest  on  board  his  yacht  in  the 

China  seas  who  was  anxious  to  know  whether  a 

certain  horse  had  won  a  race  that  day  in  Paris. 

The  account  for  his  telegrams  dispatched  privately, 

outside  the  regular  routine  of  the  Herald,  is  said 

to  average  between  £2,000  and  £3,000  a  month. 

But  Mr.  Bennett's  most  remarkable  characteristic 

Q  241 


Things  I  Remember 

is  his  extraordinary  scent  for  coming  events.  My 
opportunities  for  forming  an  opinion  on  the  matter 
are  Hmited  to  the  last  twenty  years,  but  within 
that  period  I  can  bear  witness  to  some  striking 
instances  of  his  prescience,  in  which  he  outdistanced 
all  competitors.  For  instance,  the  Herald  held 
for  twenty-four  hours  the  exclusive  news  of 
the  Armenian  attack  on  the  Ottoman  Bank  in 
Constantinople  in  August,  1896;  in  the  Grseco- 
Turkish  War  the  Herald  was  first  at  the  Turkish 
head-quarters  before  the  outbreak  of  the  war ;  and 
in  the  Russo-Japanese  War  the  Herald  was  the 
only  great  newspaper  which  foresaw  that  the 
Japanese  would  not  allow  any  war  correspondents 
at  the  front,  and  saved  the  expense  of  sending 
any ;  the  Herald  was  the  one  important  paper 
which  had  a  special  correspondent  in  Moscow  at 
the  moment  of  the  revolution,  in  November,  1905  ; 
and,  yet  again,  the  Herald  foresaw  the  outbreak 
of  the  first  Balkan  War,  and  had  a  special  corre- 
spondent on  the  spot  ahead  of  any  other  great 
newspaper. 

Mr.  Bennett's  sagacity,  his  keen  sense  of 
proportion,  have  never  shown  themselves  more 
conspicuously  than  during  the  present  war.  These 
qualities  have  been  blended  with  an  inimitable 
sense  of  humour.  The  war  had  hardly  began 
when  Mr.  Bennett  saw  that  the  public  were  being 
largely  fed  on  fiction  supplied  at  great  expense 
by  military  experts,  news  agencies  and  newspaper 
correspondents   ''dug  in,"  embedded  in  certain 

242 


The  Herald's  Satire 

neutral  Continental  capitals.  As  came  naturally 
to  a  strategist  of  the  Napoleonic  order,  he  seized 
the  situation  at  a  glance,  and  proceeded  to  supply 
an  inexpensive  but  thoroughly  reliable  substitute. 
It  took  the  form  of  maps  showing  the  positions 
of  the  contending  armies  at  the  front,  corrected 
day  by  day  in  accordance  with  the  official  com- 
muniques, the  only  trustworthy  source  of  informa- 
tion under  the  prevailing  rigorous  system  of  news 
censorship.  The  attention  of  readers  was  drawn 
to  these  maps,  and  their  advantages  were  set  forth 
in  a  series  of  editorials,  the  plausible  humorous 
nature  of  which  stamps  them  as  a  triumph  of 
editorial  skill  and  perspicacity,  while  their  sly  hits 
at  the  intelligence  of  the  average  reader  ranks 
tHem  as  masterpieces  of  ironic  journalism.  Many 
of  them  are  of  such  exceptional  merit  as  to  deserve 
to  live  beyond  the  ephemeral  day  of  their  appear- 
ance, and  I  therefore  make  no  apology  for  reprint- 
ing two  choice  examples. 

The  following  delicious  bit,  addressed  "  To 
Readers  with  Brains,"  is  a  gentle  kick  at  the 
imbecility  of  those  who  are  unable  to  profit  by 
the  maps  provided  by  the  Herald : 

''  There  are  two  kinds  of  readers  of  war 
news — the  intellectually  lazy,  who  are  satisfied 
to  guess  at  the  position  of  places  mentioned 
in  the  communiques,  and  the  intellectually 
active,  to  whom  war  news  is  exasperating 
without  the  means  of  informing  themselves 
243 


Things  I  Remember 

in  regard  to  the  geography  in  question.  It 
is  for  the  latter  that  the  Herald  prints  war 
maps.  It  doesn't  try  to  do  anything  for  the 
former.  What  they  need  is  not  maps  but 
brains,  and  such  it  is  beyond  the  power  of 
even  the  omnipotent  Press  to  supply." 

But  the  palm  must  be  awarded  to  the  gem 
which  appp eared  in  the  Paris  Herald  of  the  13th 
of  June,  1916.  It  deals  with  a  speech  of  the 
German  Chancellor  in  the  Reichstag,  in  which  he 
pretended  that  the  position  of  the  German  armies 
as  shown  by  the  map  placed  the  ultimate  victory 
of  the  Central  Powers  beyond  all  cavil  and  doubt. 
In  this  editorial  the  intelligent  reader  will  not 
only  notice  the  exposure  of  the  fallacious  reason- 
ing of  Herr  von  Bethmann-Hollweg,  but  also 
the  scarcely  veiled  indignation  of  the  master-mind 
over  intellectual  larceny,  the  bungling  attempt  at 
stealing  Jove's  thunder  as  regards  the  priority  of 
discovering  the  immense  significance  of  maps. 
There  is  something  of  that  Homeric  defiance  with 
which  the  old  Greek  heroes  used  to  assail  each 
other  prior  to  single  combat : 

"  The  Military  Map  in  the  Melting-Pot. 

"  It  seems  to  be  Dr.  Bethmann-HoU- 
weg's  fate  to  coin  phrases  that  either  discredit 
him  or  render  him  ridiculous.  He  ushered 
in  the  war  with  his  repudiation  of  embarrass- 
ing treaties  as  worthless  '  scraps  of  paper,'  a 
244 


That  "Military  Map" 

definition  that  will  blacken  his  memory  to 
the  end  of  the  human  race.  And  a  few  days 
ago  he  put  forward  his  mirth-provoking  sug- 
gestion of  a  peace  '  based  on  the  map  of  the 
mihtary  situation.' 

''  The  idea  was  a  huge  success  as  a  farce. 
The  Allies  derided  it  and  Neutrals  scoffed  at 
it.  The  American  Press  asked  drily  which 
map  the  poor  Chancellor  had  in  view — the 
map  of  Germany's  colonies,  which  with  one 
exception — and  that  one  is  at  its  last  gasp — 
have  been  conquered  by  the  Allies,  or  the 
map  of  the  seas,  on  which  no  German  vessel, 
whether  warship  or  merchantman,  dares  to 
venture  ? 

''  The  Russian  offensive  on  the  Pripet- 
Bukovina  front  is  rapidly  modifying  the 
'  military  map  '  that  Dr.  Bethmann-HoUweg 
certainly  had  in  his  mind's  eye.  The  Austro- 
Germans  are  losing  territory,  and,  what  is 
far  more  decisive,  are  losing  armies.  In  one 
week  the  Russians  have  captured  105,314 
soldiers  and  1,649  oflScers,  the  effective  of  five 
divisions.  Their  losses  in  killed  and  wounded 
are  certainly  quite  as  great.  Thus,  since 
June  4th,  almost  six  Austro-German  army 
corps  have  gone  into  the  melting-pot  with 
the  territorial  '  military  map  '  so  dear  to  Dr. 
Bethmann-Hollweg.  For  a  second  result  of 
the  headlong  flight  of  the  Austro-Germans — 
a  '  concentration  to  the  rear  '  is  the  delightful 
245 


Things  I  Remember 

official  way  of  putting  it — is  that  Russia  has 
recovered  Lutsk,  Dubno  and  several  hundred 
square  miles  of  that  famous  '  military  map.'  " 

Many  a  time  since  the  beginning  of  the  present 
war,  with  a  brain  racked  by  reading  the  news 
submerged  in  an  ocean  of  fiction  set  before  us 
by  correspondents  in  Amsterdam,  Geneva,  Rome, 
Athens,  Salonica  and  The  Hague,  I  have  turned 
to  the  editorials  of  the  Herald,  seeking  relief  in 
the  inspiration  of  a  master-mind. 

It  is  this  element  of  sanity  which  bids  Mr. 
Bennett  beware  of  the  danger  which  dogs  all 
human  greatness,  notably  in  those  in  position 
of  giddy  eminence  and  power — ^namely,  "the 
swelled  head,"  of  which,  operating  on  a  whole 
nation,  we  are  now  witnessing  the  ghastly  effects 
on  a  hundred  battlefields.  On  one  occasion  Mr. 
Bennett  cabled  to  New  York  ordering  the  dis- 
charge of  a  member  of  the  staff.  The  manager 
replied  asking  him  to  reconsider  the  matter,  as 
the  employe  in  question  was  indispensable. 
"  Discharge  every  indispensable  man  on  the 
paper,"  was  Mr.  Bennett's  reply;  ''I  myself 
am  not  indispensable." 

It  cannot  be  a  matter  for  surprise  that  such 
a  man  never  allows  his  name  to  appear  in  his 
own  paper,  so  that  in  all  probability  he  is  the 
least-known  person  in  the  world  among  the  power- 
ful nian-hypnotisers  of  his  time.  Many  have  been 
the  attempts  made  to  lure  him  into  enterprises, 

246 

/ 


A  Suez  Canal  Deal 

to  form  companies  and  syndicates,  and  to  extend 
his  influence  into  other  channels;  but  his  sane 
Scots  judgment  has  always  been  proof  against 
temptations  to  which  many  others  have  succumbed. 
His  whole  thought,  energy  and  endeavour  are 
devoted  to  the  legacy  of  his  father;  the  Herald, 
first,  foremost  and  all  the  time  —  a  striking 
manifestation  of  character. 

One  day  he  received  a  letter  from  his  banker 
when  I  was  present  informing  him  that  a  purchase 
which  he  had  recently  made  of  Suez  Canal  shares 
had  already  resulted  in  a  profit  of  some  hundred 
thousand  francs.  "  I  don't  know  what  the  man 
means,"  he  said,  turning  to  me.  ''  I  did  not  buy 
them  to  make  a  profit;  I  bought  them  for  an 
investment." 

*'  People  think  of  me  as  a  rich  man,"  he  once 
said  to  a  friend,  ''but  they  do  not  know  me  if 
they  fancy  that  it  is  the  summit  of  my  ambition 
to  be  rich.  I  would  like  to  die  at  the  very  moment 
when  I  have  spent  my  last  dollar."  Chamfort's 
axiom,  "  Le  bonheur  n'est  pas  chose  aisee ; 
difficile  de  le  trouver  en  nous,  impossible  de  le 
trouver  ailleurs,"  is,  I  feel  sure,  one  that  Mr. 
Bennett  believes  in,  notably  with  regard  to  the 
blessings  of  health ;  for  one  day  at  lunch  he  asked 
me  whether  I  would  like  any  more  of  the  excellent 
coffee  of  which  I  had  already  copiously  partaken. 
When  I  said  "  Yes,"  he  added  :  "  Do  you  know, 
I  would  give  half  my  fortune  if  I  could  drink 
coffee  as  you  do."    I  was  present  on  one  occasion 

247 


Things  I  Remember 

when  he  deplored  his  sohtude,  bemoaned  his  fate 
in  being  alone  in  the  world,  without  a  home  of 
his  own  where  kindly  faces  meet  our  gaze.  "I 
have  few  friends,  je  n'ai  pas  un  chez-soi,"  he 
complained — a  void  which,  I  am  glad  to  know, 
has  since  been  filled,  for  Mr.  Bennett  is  now 
happily  married. 

Mr.  Bennett  is  a  great  lover  of  animals, 
particularly  of  toy  dogs,  of  which  I  beheve  he 
has  a  number  always  around  him.  Indeed,  his 
partiahty  in  this  respect  goes  so  far  that  occasion- 
ally a  column  of  the  paper  is  devoted  to  the 
description  of  shows  of  his  canine  pets,  thus 
crowding  out  matter  in  which  prominent  persons 
would  have  been  dealt  with.  I  can  even  recall 
instances  in  which  human  beings  are  only  men- 
tioned in  their  qualifications  as  dog-fanciers,  or 
members  of  dog  clubs,  or  as  being  put  in  charge 
of  dogs.  Although  I  was  authorised  to  interview 
royalties,  diplomatists,  politicians  and  others,  the 
dealing  with  the  canine  and  feline  world  was,  as 
already  set  forth,  removed  from  my  sphere  of 
activity.  Whether  this  ordinance  was  connected 
with  a  cynical  estimation  of  the  human  species  it 
is  not  for  me  to  say,  though  some  cases  have 
come  under  my  observation  in  which  a  passionate 
love  for  horses  and  dogs  has  been  found  together 
with  a  very  slender  regard  for  their  own  fellow- 
creatures.  Nor  am  I  prepared  to  deny,  in  case 
this  should  apply  to  Mr.  Bennett,  that  something 
might  be  urged  in  his  favour.    A  Napoleon  could 

248 


A  Mirror  of  Life 

maintain  at  St.  Helena  that  he  had  only  treated 
mankind  as  it  deserved.  It  cannot  be  said  that 
the  animal  kingdom  has  ever  disgraced  itself  by 
those  vulgarities  and  vices  which,  in  spite  of  our 
unlimited  opportunities  of  moral  elevation  and 
social  brotherhood,  are,  alas !  to  be  found  in  every 
so-called  civilised  community.  But  here,  as  else- 
where, it  is  not  my  function  to  judge,  but  merely 
to  set  forth  facts  and  phenomena  as  they  have 
presented  themselves  to  me  in  the  course  of  my 
connection  with  them.  But  this  I  can  vouch  for 
from  practical  experience :  that,  provided  you 
understand  how  to  read  between  the  lines  of 
a  newspaper — a  very  useful  accomplishment — ^a 
regular  perusal  of  the  Paris  Herald  will  be  found 
a  more  trustworthy  guide  through  the  tragi- 
comedy of  life — the  thin  pie-crust  of  bluff, 
bunkum  and  make-believe  upon  which  our  social 
world  marionettes  trip  through  their  brief  days 
on  earth — than  a  whole  library  of  books  on 
philosophy. 

Mr.  Bennett's  sympathies  as  regards  European 
nations  are  generally  supposed  to  be  pre-eminently 
French,  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  his 
long  residence  in  Paris  has  been  the  means  of 
fostering  partiality  for  French  life  and  French 
modes  of  thought.  But  I  am  in  a  position  to 
maintain  that  his  feelings  for  England  are  no 
less  sincere,  though  perhaps  based  on  different 
grounds.  They  are  probably  less  marked  by  a 
personal  leaning  than  founded  on  respect,   as  I 

249 


Things  I  Remember 

have    repeatedly    gleaned    in    conversations    with 
him. 

On  one  occasion  we  were  gliding  along  the 
Grand  Canal  in  the  steam  pinnace  of  the  Namouna 
when  the  conversation  turned  on  sailors  and  naval 
officers — a  subject  very  near  his  heart — and  I 
drew  his  attention  to  the  scientific  training  and 
efficiency  of  the  officers  of  the  German  Navy. 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  that  may  be  all  very  true,  but 
the  English  naval  officer  is  possessed  of  qualities 
which  no  scientific  training  can  supply."  Here 
again  was  shown  his  keen  eye  for  character,  which 
has  been  so  brilliantly  justified  in  the  present  war. 
This  respect  for  the  English  sailor  in  a  man  of 
Mr.  Bennett's  saturnine  temper  is  by  no  means 
a  negligible  matter;  quite  the  contrary,  it  is  a 
very  real  and  reliable  one,  for  it  is  steadfast,  not 
swayed  by  the  ups  and  downs  of  emotion.  Love 
and  its  labour  are  easily  lost,  but  respect  rarely, 
unless  it  has  been  wilfully  forfeited.  What  makes 
Mr.  Bennett's  feeling  toward  England  of  a 
quite  exceptional  nature  is  its  freedom  from  that 
rank,  wealth  and  title  worship  which  disfigures 
so  much  American  Anglomania  and  exposes  its 
votaries  to  the  ridicule  of  many  sterling,  but 
stanchly  republican,  American  elements.  Mr. 
Bennett  has  none  of  this.  I  have  been  present 
when  his  remarks  on  this  subject  have  been  as 
frank  as  they  were  worthy  of  respect.  What  Mr. 
Bennett  likes  in  Englishmen  is  the  droiture,  the 
uprightness,  the  loyalty,  the  chivalry ;  and,  where 

250 


Mr.  Bennett's  Dilemma 

these  are  lacking,  no  rank,  not  even  that  of 
Royalty  itself,  has  any  hold  on  him. 

I  was  present  on  one  occasion  when  he  received 
a  letter  from  the  Secretary  of  the  Prince  of  Wales 
inquiring  whether  Mr.  Bennett  would  let  the 
steam  pinnace  of  his  yacht  to  the  Prince,  who 
was  staying  on  the  Riviera.  Mr.  Bennett  turned 
to  me  and  said:  ''Now,  what  am  I  to  do?  I 
absolutely  refuse  to  accept  payment  for  such  a 
thing,  and  if  I  let  him  have  it  for  nothing  people 
will  say  I  am  a  snob." 

Mr.  Bennett's  ideal  of  the  Englishman,  as  I 
gathered  from  his  own  lips,  was  the  late  Lord 
Salisbury :  the  blunt  but  clear-brained  farmer, 
with  a  bent  toward  statesmanship,  honourable,  a 
strong,  sterling  character — in  other  words,  every- 
thing— for  without  character  a  man  is — ^nothing! 
"  Character  is  centrality,  the  impossibility  of 
being  displaced  or  overset,"  according  to  Emer- 
son. The  German  Press  has  long  looked  upon 
Gordon  Bennett  as  an  enemy,  and  since  the 
beginning  of  this  war  insidious  attempts  have 
been  made  by  the  hyphenated  Americans  to 
intimidate  him  by  threats.  The  attempt  to 
intimidate  a  man  who  is  constitutionally  beyond 
fear  was  bound  to  fail.  Thus  his  answer  to  a 
threat  that  they  would  withdraw  their  adver- 
tisements from  the  Herald  only  met  with  the 
intimation  to  the  paper:   "Take  them  all  out" 

(the  advertisements) ;  *'  let  them  go  to and  be 

."    To  attempt  such  manoeuvres  with  a  man 

251 


Things  I  Remember 

like  Bennett  was  not  only  vain  and  vile,  but  absurd 
and  senseless. 

Mr.  Bennett  was  by  no  means  anti-German  in 
other  days.  He  was  a  warm  admirer  of  Bismarck, 
whom  he  visited  at  Friedrichsruh.  Even  after- 
wards, on  several  occasions  when  he  deemed  that 
there  was  something  to  be  said  in  favour  of 
Germany's  attitude,  he  always  gave  Germany 
fair  play  in  the  Herald,  as  I  am  able  to  vouch; 
witness  the  Spanish- American  War,  and  even 
the  Algeciras  Conference,  on  both  of  which  occa- 
sions I  was  his  special  correspondent  in  BerUn. 
It  was  only  when  the  hidden  but  real  nature  of 
Germany's  aims  and  deceits  was  laid  bare  that 
Mr.  Bennett  unhesitatingly  threw  his  whole  in- 
fluence on  the  side  of  the  Allies.  It  was  once 
again  a  matter  of  character — uncompromising, 
adamantine.  And  here  I  may  mention  from 
personal  knowledge  the  many  attempts  which 
have  been  made  by  ''august  persons"  to  ''get 
round  ' '  one  who  has  always  refused  to  be  circum- 
vented. Poor  Abdul  Hamid  was  at  his  wits'  end 
how  to  show  his  appreciation  of  the  friendly 
attitude  of  the  Herald.  He  sent  Mr.  Bennett  a 
gold  cigarette  case  studded  with  brilliants  for  his 
acceptance,  an  offering  such  as  is  usually  only 
exchanged  between  the  "Lord's  Anointed."  It 
was  returned  with  thanks. 

Those  who  have  enjoyed  opportunities  of 
meeting  Mr.  Bennett  in  private  life  assure  me 
that  he  is  imbued  with  great  personal  distinction, 

252 


A  Generous  Opponent 

that  in  his  whole  manner  there  is  something  which 
stamps  him  as  one  of  the  few  grand  seigneurs  left 
in  a  vulgar  age.  My  own  experiences  incline  me 
to  endorse  this  view.  Although  he  has  for  years 
been  aware  of  the  pathological  case  of  ''  swelled 
head"  in  Potsdam,  until  the  outbreak  of  the 
war  he  always  refrained  from  dealing  with  it  in 
a  personal  and  critical  sense.  A  certain  instinct 
of  chivalry  and  dignity  restrained  him  from  attack- 
ing when  he  felt  that  the  attacked  party  was  not 
in  a  position  to  defend  himself.  I  have  repeatedly 
crossed  swords  with  the  '*  strong  man,"  and  I  can 
only  say  that  my  encounters  have  left  me  with  a 
feeling  that  I  had  to  do  with  a  rough  customer, 
but  with  one  who  respects  his  opponent  as  a 
gentleman,  and  thus  proclaims  himself  to  be  one. 
The  following  letter  was  the  last  occasion  of  the 
kind.  It  explains  itself  and  at  the  same  time 
throws  an  interesting  light,  I  think,  on  the 
fearless  fair-mindedness  of  the  Herald: 

''Paris,  Jan.  3,  1911. 

"Dear    Mr.     Whitman, — The     letter^     on 
cholera  to  which  you  have  called  my   attention 

*  This  letter  dealt  with  an  incident  in  the  cholera  visitation  in 
London  in  1848  or  1849,  which  led  directly  to  the  discovery  of  drinking- 
water  as  a  carrier  of  the  disease.  An  inhabitant  of  Golden  Square, 
near  Regent  Street,  had  gone  to  live  in  the  north  of  London,  at  High- 
gate,  but  was  so  accustomed  to  the  sweet-tasting  drinking-water  sup- 
plied by  the  street  pumps  in  those  day i  that  he  had  a  supply  regularly 
fetched  every  day.  He  was  the  only  inhabitant  of  Highgate  who 
died  of  cholera. 

253 


Things  I  Remember 

has  certainly  been  lost.  I  have  made  inquiries 
everywhere,  but  no  trace  of  it  can  be  found. 

"  I  must  confess  considerable  astonishment  at 
your  supposition  that  '  the  letter  might  have  been 
suppressed  because  it  criticised  an  editorial  which 
might  have  been  written  by  a  member  of  the  staff 
who  did  not  wish  me  to  know  of  his  work  being 
found  fault  with.' 

"  You  have  been  connected  with  the  Herald  so 
long  that  this  supposition  came  as  a  great  surprise. 
Far  from  seeking  to  avoid  publication  of  com- 
munications such  as  your  letter,  one  of  the  first 
principles  followed  by  the  Herald  is,  on  the  con- 
trary, to  print  everything  which  it  may  receive 
from  readers  criticising  its  policy,  its  articles,  or 
its  dispatches.  Consequently,  had  your  letter 
been  received,  you  may  rest  assured  that  it  would 
have  been  duly  printed. — Yours  truly, 

"J.  G.  Bennett. 

''  P.S. — I  thought  you  knew  by  this  time  that 
'  my  editors '  don't  write  editorials  off  their  own 
bat." 

There  is  nothing  new  in  the  contention  that 
a  keen  sense  of  humour  is  a  notable  adjunct  of  a 
strong  character,  particularly  in  those  of  English- 
speaking  races.  Of  this  Mr.  Bennett  is  a  striking 
example.  The  English  Parliamentary  elections  of 
1910  were  about  to  begin  when  I  received  a 
message  from  him   asking  me  whether  I  would 

254 


Biblical  Telegrams 

undertake  to  send  a  daily  cable  to  New  York 
reporting  their  progress ;  if  so,  I  was  to  send  my 
reply  to  Shepheard's  Hotel,  Cairo.  I  cabled : 
''  Your  will  be  done. — Whitman."  In  the  course 
of  post  my  message  was  returned  to  me  in  an 
envelope  with  the  following  w^ords  added  in 
blue  pencil  in  Mr.  Bennett's  characteristic  hand- 
writing :  "  On  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven. — Bennett." 

Many  other  interesting  experiences  occur  to 
my  mind,  some  of  them  fraught  with  delicious 
humour,  but  if  I  conclude  with  the  following 
anecdote  it  is  because  I  venture  to  think  that  it 
throws  a  sympathetic  human  light  on  this  great 
newspaper  autocrat. 

During  the  visit  which  I  paid  to  Mr.  Bennett 
on  his  yacht  at  Venice  in  September,  1897,  one 
day  he  casually  asked  me  my  opinion  of  a  member 
of  the  London  staff  of  the  paper.  The  individual 
referred  to — rather  a  happy-go-lucky,  intrusive 
kind  of  person — was  not  particularly  sympathetic 
to  me,  and  I  thoughtlessly  blurted  out  that  he 
had  asked  me  to  have  a  drink  with  him  at  a  Fleet 
Street  tavern,  an  invitation  which  had  not  appealed 
to  me,  and  I  thought  no  more  about  it.  On  my 
return  to  London  I  was  informed  at  the  Herald 
office  that  the  man  in  question  had  been  suddenly 
dismissed  from  the  Herald  and  was  stranded  in 
London  penniless.  This  weighed  upon  my  mind, 
and  I  wrote  at  once  to  Mr.  Bennett  teUing  him 
that  it  was  a  source  of  worry  to  me  to  think 
that  anything  I  might  have  said  could  have  had 

255 


Things  I  Remember 

the  slightest  influence  in  swaying  his  sovereign 
judgment,  that  I  feared  my  somewhat  ill-natured 
remark  on  what  was  after  all  a  venial  affair  might 
possibly  have  been  one  of  the  last  straws  that  had 
weighed  in  his  decision.  Much  to  my  relief,  a 
telegram  came  a  few  days  afterwards  reinstating 
the  man  who  had  been  discharged. 


256 


CHAPTER   XVII 

CONCLUSION 

It  is  related  of  the  great  Pope  Innocent  III. 
(1198-1216)  that  immediately  after  his  election, 
when,  according  to  custom,  he  came  out  of  the 
Vatican  on  to  the  Square  of  St.  Peter's  to  bless 
the  assembled  multitude,  he  was  quite  taken  back 
by  the  immense  gathering  in  front  of  him ;  for 
he  had  hitherto  led  the  secluded  life  of  a  devout 
priest.  Turning  to  a  cardinal  at  his  side,  he  ex- 
claimed :  ''For  goodness'  sake,  tell  me,  how  do 
all  these  people  manage  to  live?" 

''Why,  your  Holiness,"  the  cardinal  replied, 
"they  live,  to  be  sure,  by  deceiving,  by  preying 
upon  each  other." 

The  journalist  who  has  seen  many  lands  should 
have  had  opportunities  vouchsafed  to  few  men  for 
observing  and  making  comparisons  between  the 
manifold  conditions  under  which  this  struggle  is 
still  being  carried  on,  not  the  least  significant 
feature  of  which  is  the  ingenuous,  almost  childlike 
subjectivity  of  man  in  his  appreciation  of  its  real 
nature.  To  the  average,  life  is  scarcely  more  than 
a  momentary  flitting  past  in  front  of  a  camera — 
succeeded  by  darkness  and  oblivion.     My  friend 

R  257 


Things  I  Remember 

Max  Nordau  used  to  tell  a  little  srtory  illustrative 
of  this  queer  lack  of  the  sense  of  proportion  of 
things.  A  peasant  strolling  near  a  mountain 
torrent  was  appealed  to  by  a  fox  struggling  in 
the  water:  "Help!  help!"  it  cried  out,  "the 
world  is  coming  to  an  end!"  "Thou  art  mis- 
taken, my  friend,"  the  peasant  replied;  "  I  only 
see  a  little  fox  that  is  drowning." 

Since  the  beginning  of  the  present  war  I  have 
often  passed  along  Piccadilly  of  a  morning  and 
taken  note  of  the  long  file  of  just-enlisted  men, 
dra\vn  from  all  ranks  and  conditions  of  life  and 
still  in  civilian  dress,  as  they  marched  through  the 
Park  and  trooped  silently  into  the  courtyard  of 
Devonshire  House.  There  was  something  intensely 
impressive  in  their  earnest,  artless  bearing  as  they 
passed  by  in  answer  to  the  call  of  their  country. 
Many  of  them  were  only  too  likely  to  be  "  voues 
a  la  mort."  Not  a  hat,  however,  was  lifted  or  a 
cheer  raised,  yet  a  Imnp  would  rise  in  the  throat 
and  eyes  moisten  at  the  sight.  Surely  there 
must  be  a  divine  element  in  the  nature  of  man 
which  impels  him  to  volunteer  such  service  I  May 
it  only  lead  to  a  broader,  a  deeper,  a  happier  and 
a  worthier  future,  one  tiny  feature  of  which  I 
would  fain  illustrate  by  an  incident  drawn  from 
my  reading  of  the  Paris  Herald. 

During  the  Italian  expedition  in  Tripoli  a 
section  of  the  Paris  Press  was  very  bitter  in  its 
attacks  on  Italy,  An  American  gentleman  wrote 
a  letter  to  the  Herald  in  which  he  expressed  his 

258 


Perspectives  of  the  Future 

displeasure  at  this  attitude,  and  summed  up  his 
remarks  in  the  following  words  :  ''  I  have  lived  in 
Italy  for  many  years.  As  a  rich  man  I  went 
among  them  ;  in  the  course  of  my  stay,  unhappily, 
I  lost  my  entire  fortune — I  became  absolutely 
impecunious ;  but  I  did  not  lose  a  single  one  of  my 
Italian  friends."  May  such  an  experience  be  also 
characteristic  of  my  native  country  in  the  brighter 
future  which  we  all  must  earnestly  hope  for. 

But,  in  order  to  be  worthy  of  it,  our  life  must 
gain  in  depth  and  sincerity.  We  must  come  to 
appreciate  things,  and  above  all  our  fellow  men, 
more  clearly  by  what  they  are  than  by  what  they 
appear  to  be  in  their  outward  condition  of  rank 
and  position.  In  other  words,  we  must  revise 
some  of  our  estimates  of  "  reputed  "  values — those 
which  handicap  us  in  various  directions.  We  must 
emancipate  ourselves  from  the  insidious  influence 
of  the  great  Make-Believe  which  still  meets  us  at 
every  turn  of  life. 

If  we  succeed  in  this  endeavour,  the  present 
war,  which  has  already  proved  a  scourge  to  the 
living,  may  yet  become  a  blessing  for  the  unborn, 
for  the  future  of  the  nation.  Should  this  con- 
summation be  vouchsafed  to  our  children,  they 
may  Uve  to  enjoy  conditions  foreshadowed  by  one 
of  the  greatest  of  their  race : 

**  We  then  return 
To  claim  our  just  inheritance  of  old. 
Surer  to  prosper  than  prosperity 
Could  have  assured  us.'* 

—Milton. 

259 


INDEX 


Abdul  Hamid,  a  returned  present, 

252 
Adam,  Madame  Edmond,  193 
Albani,  Madame,  19 
Albanians,  the,  55 
Albert  Edward,   Prince  of  Wales, 

and  Mr.  Labouchere,  63 
at  Marienbad,  65 
his  part  in  the  hat  controversy, 

21  et  seq.,  31. 
{See,     also,     Edward      VII., 

King) 
Algeciras  Conference,  the,  173,  252 

results  of,  187 
Alsace,  province  of,  194 
Anti-Semitism     in     the     Imperial 

Court,  219 
Antoine,  M.,  a  dinner  to,  194 
Anton  of  Hohenzollern,  Prince,  235 
America,  war  with  Spain,  73  et  seq., 

86  ;    peace  proclaimed,  90 
American  tribute  to   Italians,   an, 

259 
Aristocracy,  British,  traditions  of, 

23 
Armenia,  an  expedition  to,  70 
Armenian  attack  on  Ottoman  Bank, 

Constantinople,  242 
Australian  convict  ship,  an,  3 
Austro-German  Alliance,  the,  189 


Balkan  War,  the,  242 
Ballin,  Herr,  the  Kaiser  and,  178 
"  Baltian,"  definition  of,  82 
Baltic   provinces,    Russification   of 

the,  82 
Bartlett,    Sir   Ellis    Ashmead,    55, 

58 
Bebel,  Herr,  176 
Bell,  Moberly,  201 

an  anecdote  of  Delane,  206 
Bennett,  James  Gordon,  2,  3,  240 

et  seq. 
a  born  journalist,  241 


Bennett,  James  Gordon— continued 
a  dilemma,  251 
Abdul  Hamid  and,  252 
accepts  author's  resignation  as 

Berlin  correspondent,  189 
admiration  for  Bismarck,  252 
as  autocrat,  113,  115,  241,  246, 

251,  254 
Biblical  telegrams,  255 
correspondence  with  author,  253 
European  sympathies  of,  249 
Herald,   the,  a  new   departure, 

243 
his  ideal  Englishman,  251 
interviews  Sultan  of  Turkey,  70 
love  of  animals,  3,  248 
marriage  of,  248 
on  result  of  Algeciras  Conference, 

187 
on    the    British    and    German 

Navies,  250 
prescience  of,  242 
serenaded  at  Venice,  69 
Beresford,    Lord    Charles,    on    the 
importance  of  the  torpedo,  87 
Berlin,  a  galaxy  of  professors  in,  81 
a  princely  bully,  221 
Court  festivities  in,  220 
during    the    Algeciras     Confer- 
ence, 173 
Berliner    Tageblatt,  the,  independ- 
ence of,  179 
Berne-Bellecour,  M.,  193 
Bethmann  -  Hollweg,     Herr     von, 
speech  in  the  Reichstag,  244 
Beust,  Count,  37 

Bieberstein,  Baron  Marschall  von, 
114 
and  the  British  Press,  233 
Bigham,  Mr.,  54 
Bismarck,  Count  Herbert,  1,  92 
a  rebuff  for  William  II.,  93 
and  the  Hyphenates,  105 
Count  MUnster  and,  200 
death  of,  94 


R* 


261 


Index 


Bismarck,  Count  Herbert — contd. 
discusses  Mexican  question  with 

author,  74 
King  Edward  VII.  and,  102 
Lord     Rosebery,    godfather   to 
Herbert  Bismarck's  son,  102 
Bismarck,  Prince  von,  a  droll  story 
by,  98 
an  outspoken  remark,  227 
attitude  towards  the  Press,  104 
author's     "  Personal    Reminis- 
cences "  of,  96,  117 
author's  tribute  to,  94-6 
Blowitz'  admiration  for,  201 
boycotting  of,  99 
comments  on  Jameson  Raid,  101 
compliments  author,  97 
death  of,  91 

defends  Count  d'H^risson,  109 
English  and  French  confidence 

in,  103 
forebodings  of  a  world-war,  94 
his  friendship  for  England,  103 
his  78th  and  80th  birthday  cele- 
brations, 105 
Hyphenates  and,  105 
King  Edward  VII.  and,  101 
Lord  Salisbury's  admiration  for, 

102 
opposes  annexation  of  Metz,  195 
personal  charm  of,  95 
sons'  refusal  of  State  funeral,  93 
the  Spanish-American  War,  78 
Bismarck,    Princess,    a   sensational 

report  in  The  Times,  199 
Blennerhassett,    Sir   Rowland   and 

Lady,  66 
Bloch,  Jean  de,  49 
Blowitz,  M.  de,  198 

admiration  for  Bismarck,  201 
an  imperfect   English  linguist, 

200 
introduces    author  to  Alphonse 

Daudet,  202 
memories  of,  201 
the    Bismarck   dismissal  story, 
199-200 
Boer  War,  the,  Germany  and,  85 

Gutschkoff  and,  168 
Brazil,  Emperor  of,  deposed,  74 
British  naval  power,  87 
British  Navy,  the,  W.  T.  Stead  and, 
229 


Brunswick,  Duke  of,  death  of,  235 

Bucharest,  author  in,  59 

Bulgaria,  Queen  of,  a  letter  from, 

190 
Billow,      Prince,      an      authorised 
Herald  communication,  173 
and  Prof.  Schiemann,  84 
author  the  guest  of,  211 
author's    correspondence    with, 

212 
his  view  of  the  Kaiser,  176 
offers  to  present  author  to  the 

Kaiser,  183 
on  appointment  of  Chief  of  Staff, 

181 
on  the  German  Fleet,  212 
Burne-Jones,  Sir  Edward,  17 

Franz  von  Lenbach  and,  17-18 
his  admiration  for  Millais,  18 
Burne-Jones,  Sir  Philip,  19 
Burns,  John,  24 


Campbell-Bannerman,  Sir  Henry, 
and  the  Jameson  Raid,  65 

"  Carmen  Sylva."  (See  Elisabeth 
of  Roumania,  Queen) 

Carol,  King,  friendship  with  author, 
118 
Reminiscences  of,  59 

Carpenter,  Dr.  Boyd  (Bishop  of 
Ripon),  and  the  "  Brother- 
hood of  Peace,"  89 

Cassagnac,  Paul  de,  on  boycotting 
of  Bismarck,  99 

Century,  the,  an  interview  with 
William  IL,  225 

Chamberlain,  Houston,  108 

his  "  Foundations  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century,"  219 

Chamberlain,  Rt.  Hon.  J.,  186 

Chanzy,  M.,  197 

Charles  Louis,  Archduke,  41 

Chary,  Hermann,  52 

Cherbuliez,  Victor,  198 

Chichester,  Captain,  80 

Chinese    Ambassador    in    London, 
the,  12 
a    signed     family     photograph 
from,  14 

Cholera  in  London,  253  ;  in  Russia, 
168 

Clemenceau,  M.,  209 


262 


Index 


Close,  Admiral,  87 
Constantinople,    Armenian    attack 
on  Ottoman  Bank  in,  242 
author  in,  57 
Creighton,  Dr.,  Bishop  of  London, 

88 
Currie,  Sir  Philip  and  Lady,  58 


Daily  Telegraph,  the,  a  sensational 

interview,  and    question    of 

authorship,  225 
Daudet,  Alphonse,  author's  meeting 

with,  202 
Delane,  an  anecdote  of,  206 
Delbruck,  Professor,  80,  84,  116 

and  the  Boer  War,  84 
D6roul6de,  Paul,  197 
Detaille,  Edouard,  193 
D'Eu,  the  Countess,  74 
Dewey,  Admiral,  60,  80 
D'H6risson,  Count,  and  Bismarck, 

109 
Dietrichs,  Admiral,  80 
Dilke,  Lady,  9,  10 
Dilke,    Sir   Charles,    a    student   of 

Keats,  7 
as  athlete,  8 

encyclopaedic  knowledge  of,  6 
his  kindly  thought,  9 
Doczi,  Ludwig  von,  his  influence  in 

Vienna,  35 
Dolgorukow,  Prince  Paul,  author's 

impressions  of,  169 
Dreadnought  era,  the,  87 
Dresden    China    Works,    the,   123, 

124 
Dreyfus  case,  the,  44,  196,  205 
Dubassow,  Admiral,  158 


Edhem   Pasha  :     attitude  to   war 

correspondents,  53 
Edward  VII.,   King,   and  M.   Cle- 
menceau,  209 
as  Prince,  21,  23,  31 
at  Karlsbad,  209-210 
Bismarck  and,  101 
death  of,  210 

his  admiration  of  Germans,  186 
(See,      also,     Albert     Edward, 
Prince  of  Wales) 
Elassona,  author  at,  52  et  seq. 


Elisabeth  of  Roumania,  Queen,  118 

a  letter  from,  119 

as  author,  120 
Empire   Federation,   W.   T.   Stead 

and,  229 
English,  the,  at  Salonica,  51 
Esterhazy,  Count  Nicolas,  37 

a  patron  of  the  drama,  38 

the  Emperor's  attitude  towards, 
39 
Eulenburg  trial,  the,  214,  217 


Faidherbe,  L.  L.  C,  197 
Federation  of  the  Empire,  W.  T. 

Stead  and,  229 
Festetics,  Count :    a  letter  to  Sir 

Horace  Rumbold,  36 
Francis  Joseph,  Emperor,  41 
Franck,  Adolphe,  and  Don  Pedro, 

75 
Frederick,  Empress,  her  friendship 

with  Prince  Bismarck,  101 
Froude,  James  Anthony,  8 

on    the    fascination    of    daily 

journalism,  121 
Fry,  Sir  Edward,  233 
Fulton  Centenary,  the,  222 


Gambetta,  L6on,  197 

George  V.,  King,  24 

Gerlach,  Baron,  209 

German    Fleet,    the,     anxiety    in 

England  regarding,  211 
German  Press,  the,  and  the  Spanish- 
American  War,  76 
Germans,  their  lust  for  bloodshed, 

56,57 
Germany  and  the  Boer  War,  85 
anti-Russian  influence  in,  83 
dangerous    political    conditions 

in,  177 
debauchery  in  high  places,  218 
her  desire  for  naval  stations,  80 
the  Press  of,  76,  183 
the  undermining  of,  175 
vertebrate  journalists  in,  179 
Gervex,  Monsieur,  69 
Ghazi  Osman  Pasha,  leaves  for  the 

seat  of  war,  57 
Gladstone  Administration  of  1892, 
the.  64 


263 


Index 


Gladstone,  Rt.  Hon.  W.  E.,  228 
Goluchowski,  Count,  33 

author's  presentation  to,  44 
refuses  an  interview,  34 
Gordon,  General,  an  old  servant  of, 

62 
Gower,    Lord    Ronald    Sutherland, 
and  his  valet,  29,  32 
as  sculptor,  27 
his  surroundings,  25 
introduces    author    to    G.     F. 

Watts,  19 
last  years  of,  32 
Queen  Victoria  and,  26 
takes  author  to  a  Levee,  30 
views     on    head-covering    and 
visiting  cards,  21,  24 
Gravelotte,  battle  of,  99,  100 
Great  Britain  and  U.S.A.  :    an  un- 
realised ideal,  88 
Great  War,  the,  on  the  brink,  211 
et  seq. 
W.  T.  Stead's  prophetic  forecast 
of,  234,  238 
"  Greater  Britain,"  Dilke's,  7 
Greece,  war  with  Turkey,  54,  57, 

242 
Grey,  Sir  Edward,  188 
Gunther,  Duke,  221 
Gutschkoff,  Alexander,  167 

his  activities,  168 
Gutschkoff,    Nicolai,     a    visit    to, 
150 


Haeseler,  Count  Hiilsen,  a  master 

of  intrigue,  224 
functions  of,  223 
Hague  Conference,  the,  233 
Harnack,  Professor  Adolf,  81 
Hat   controversy,   a  forgotten,   21 

et  seq. 
Hatzfeldt,   Count,   an  anecdote  of 

Prince  Bismarck,  99 
Hubert,  Ernest,  193 
Heine,    Heinrich,    on    theologians, 

81 
Henneberg,  Herr,  a  celebrated  pic- 
ture by,  224 
Hepworth,  Dr.  George  H.,  71,  72, 

114 
H^risson,  Count  d',  and  Bismarck, 

109 


Herzl,  Dr.  Theodor,  42 

a  Jewish  reception  in  London, 
48 

and  anti-Semitism,  44 

death  of,  45 

his  son,  49 

received  by  the  Sultan,  48 

the  Zionist  Movement,  43, 45, 46 
Hohenlohe,  Prince,  77 
Holleben,  Dr.  von,  a  cabale  against 

Lord  Pauncefote,  78 
Holstein,  Herr  von,  177 
H6nig,  Fritz,  116 
Howells,  William  Dean,  209 
Humour,  value  of,  232 
'*  Hyphenates,"  the,  105 

and  Mr.  Bennett,  251 


Innocent  HL,  Pope,  257 
International    Conference    at    The 

Hague,  233 
International  Statistical  Congress, 

Vienna,  40 
Iron  Crosses,  broadcast  bestowal  of, 

189 
Italy  and  the  Triple  Alliance,  187 
Parisian  Press  attacks  on,  258 


Jameson  Raid,  the,  65 

Bismarck's  comments  on,  101 
Jena,  the  battle  of,  235 
Jenner,  Sir  William,  his  prescrip- 
tion for  Queen  Victoria,  208 
Jewish  colonies  and  settlements  in 
Palestine,  47  (note) 
question  in  Germany,  219 
Jews,  the,  author's  friendship  with, 
44 
Dr.  Herzl  and  the  Zionist  Move- 
ment, 42,  45,  46 
in  Salonica,  51 
William  II.  and,  219 
Joffre,  General,  197 
Journalism,  ironic,  243 
Juarez,  President,  and  the  execu- 
tion of  the  Emperor  Maxi- 
milian, 66 
Judaea,  Jewish  settlements  in,  47 

(note) 
"  Judas    ox,"    the :     Mr.    Stead's 
simile,  234 


264 


Index 


Kadimah,  a  Viennese,  47 

Karlsbad,  the  Mayor  of,  and  author, 
207 
■waters  of,  208 

Kitchener,  General,  sanctions 
Gutschkoft's  return  to  Rus- 
sia, 168 

K5peniclc,  tlie  cobbler  of,  225 

Koster,  Grand  Admiral  von,  222 

Kotze  case,  the,  216 

Kruger,  President,  a  retort  to  a 
snob,  27 

Kung,  Mr.  (Chinese  Minister  in 
London),  12  et  seq. 


Labouchere,  Henry,  an  expensive 

pastime,  63 

author's  introduction  to,  61 

cynical  common  sense  of,  62 

the  Prince  of  Wales  and,  63 

Lamber,      Juliette.     (See     Adam, 

Madame  Edmond) 
Leclerc,    Dr.    Schumann,    M.    Cle- 

menceau  and,  209 
Lenbach,  Franz  von,  17 

an  introduction  to  Count  Johann 

Wilczek  from,  34 
introduces    author    to    Sir    R. 
Blennerhassett,  66 
Leopold,   Prince  of  Lippe,  letters 

from,  122,  123 
Lichnowsky,  Prince,  125 
Lippe-Detmold,     Principality     of, 
the  succession  question,  121, 
122 
London,  an  outbreak  of  cholera  in, 
253 
Bishop  of  (Dr.  Creighton),  letter 
from,  88 
Lome,  Marquis  of,  author's  meet- 
ing with,  30 
ex-Governor-General  of  Canada, 
88 
Lorraine,  province  of,  194 
Louis  Ferdinand,  Prince,  death  of, 
235 


Mahan,  Captain,  86 
"  Maiden  Tribute  of  Modern  Baby- 
lon," the,  228 
Manila  Bay  incident,  the,  79 


Mapa  as  aids  to  war  communiquds, 

243 
Marienbad,  61 

Mr.  Labouchere  and  author  at, 
61  et  seq. 
Maximilian    of   Mexico,    Emperor, 

execution  of,  66,  74 
McKinley,  President,  80 
Meissen  China  factory,  123,  124 
Mejia,  General,  66 
Meluna  Pass,  rival  block-houses  at, 

56 
Mersey,  Lord,  54 
Metternich,  Princess  Pauline,  37 
Metz,  an    emblematical   figure   of, 
193 
annexation  of,  opposed  by  Bis- 
marck, 195 
Meyer,  Dr.  von,  66 
Miles,  Sir  Nelson,  58 
Millais,  Sir  John  Everett,  criticism 
of,  10 
death  of,  15 

Sir    E.     Burne-Jones's    appre- 
ciation of,  18 
Miramon,  General,  66 
Moltke,   Count   Helmuth  von,  ap- 
pointed    Cliief    of    General 
Staff,  180 
Billow's  attitude  on  his  appoint- 
ment, 181 
Mommsen,  Theodor,  116 
Montefiore,   Sir   Francis,   and    the 

Zionist  Movement,  46 
Morocco  imbroglio,  the,  a  review 

of,  187 
Moscow,  a  reign  of  terror  in,  152 
a  "  scratch  "  meal  in,  146,  147 
attacking  the  mails,  145 
Christmas  Eve,  1906,  165 
courier  service  organised  in,  145 
fateful  sittings  of  the  Duma,  138 
forbearance  of  the  military,  162 
in  revolution,  142  et  seq. 
march  of  revolutionists  in,  155 
postal  strike  in,  143 
Press  of,  151 

revolutionaries  at  work,  161 
the  G.P.O.,  149 
waiters'  strike  in,  142,  146 
wholesale  deception  in,  163 
Mosse,  Herr  Rudolf,  proprietor  of 
the  Berliner  Tageblalt,  179 


265 


Index 


Motley,  J.  L.,  95 

Miinster,  Count,  Bismarck  dismissal, 
story  of,  199 
Count  Herbert  Bismarck's  chal- 
lenge'to,  200 


Namounoy  the,  69,  250 
Napoleon,  Emperor,  27 
Neue  Freie  Press,  the,  Dr.   Herzl 

and,  42,  48 
Neuville,  Alphonse  de,  193 
Nischni-Novgorod,  famine  in,  168 
Nordau,  Max,  202 

a  retort  discourteous,  205 

a  story  by,  258 

defends  Dreyfus,  204 

his  '*  Degeneration,"  202,  205 
North cliffe,  Lord,  Mr.  Stead's  anec- 
dote of,  232 
Novikoff,  Madame  Olga,  228 


O'CONOR,  Sir  Philip,  118  (note) 


Paladine,  Aurelles  de,  197 
Palestine,     Jewish     colonies     and 

settlements  in,  47  (note) 
Pall  Mall  Gazette,  the,  W.  T.  Stead 

and,  228 
Palmerston,  Lord,  and  Delane,  206 
Parfenenko,  M.,  143  ;  arrest  of,  145 
Paris,  an  Alsace-Lorraine  dinner  at, 

194 
Paskewicz,  General,  his  monument 

in  Warsaw,  132 
Paul,   Kegan :     author's  letter   of 

introduction      to      Cardinal 

Vaughan  from,  10 
Pauncefote,  Lord,  a  cabale  against, 

78 
Pedro,  Don,  74 

Peter  the  Great  at  Karlsbad,  208 
Poles,  the,  128 

their  ambitions,  139 
Polish  autonomy.  Prince  Trubetz- 

koi  on,  166 
Posadowsky,  Count,  coins  a  signi- 
ficant phrase,  177 
Postal  strike  in  Moscow,  143 
Potocka,  Countess,  137 
Press  "  howlers,"  123-5 


Primrose    League,    the.    Sir    Ellis 

Ashmead  Bartlett  and,  55 
Propert,  Rev.  Sydney,  28 


QuERETARo,  cxccution  of  Emperor 
Maximilian  at,  66,  74 


Railway  strike  in  Moscow,  127, 147 

Ralph,  Julian,  an  unfulfilled  pro- 
phecy by,  114 

Rantzau,  Count,  78,  93 

Rawson,  Sir  Rawson,  W.,  president 
of  International  Statistical 
Congress  of  1891,  40 

Reuss,  Prince,  and  his  sisters,  189 

Reuss,  Princess  Eleonora  (now 
Queen  of  Bulgaria),  a  letter 
from,  190 

Rhodes,  Cecil,  and  W.  T.  Stead, 
237 

Richthofen,  Baron,  Andrew  White 
and,  79 

Ripon,  Bishop  of  (Dr.  Boyd  Car- 
penter), letter  from,  89 

Rosebery,  Lord,  godfather  to  Her- 
bert Bismarck's  son,  102 

Roumania,  author  in,  59 

Queen    of.    (See    Elisabeth    of 
Roumania,  Queen) 

Rumbold,  Sir  Horace,  36 

Russia,    Empress    of,    and    W.    T. 
Stead,  238 
outbreak  of  cholera  in,  168 

Russo-Japanese  War,  the,  242 


Sade,  Marquis  de,  217 
Sadowa,  battle  of,  235 
Salisbury,  Lord,  his  admiration  for 
Prince  Bismarck,  102 
Mr.  Bennett  on,  251 
Salonica,  an  English  public-house 
in,  51,  56 
in  1897,  50 
Samaria,  Jewish  settlements  in,  47 

(note) 
Saxony,  King  of,  arbitrator  in  the 
Lippe-Detmold     succession, 
122 
Schiemann,  Professor,  81 
his  sinister  influence,  83-4 


266 


Index 


Schmoller,  Professor,  81 
SchuvalofT,  Count,  assassination  of, 

151 
Schweninger,  Professor,  Bismarck's 

physician,  91 
Sebastiani,  General,  127 
Sebastopol,     mutiny     of    Russian 

sailors  at,  168 
Seckendorff,  Count,  an  introduction 
to,  184 
at  King  Edward's  Coronation, 

186 
facts  on  the  moral  situation  in 

Germany,  218 
letters  to  author,  192,  213,  215 
Semanski,  Colonel,  and  the  Moscow 

revolution,  154 
Serge,  Grand  Duke,  assassination  of, 

151 
Shakespeare   Memorial,    Stratford- 

on-Avon,  27 
Sherbatoff,  Prince,  165 

popularity  of,  in  Moscow,  166 
Smalley,    G.    \V.,   tribute   to   Bis- 
marck, 95-6 
Spanish-American  War,  the,  73  et 
seq.,  86,  252 
peace  proclaimed,  90 
Spiritualism,  W.  T.  Stead  and,  236 
Stafford  House,  25,  26 
Stead,  W.  T.,  and  the  Tsar,  235 
as  dreamer,  235,  236,  237 
Cecil  Rhodes  and,  237 
death  of,  229 
early  recollections  of,  228 
faith  in  women,  237,  238 
high  national  aim  of,  231 
his  sense  of  humour,  232 
Stetkiewitsch,  Colonel,  149 
Stourdza,  Demeter,  Prime  Minister 

of  Roumania,  59 
Strassburg,  an  emblematical  figure 

of,  193 
Strauss,  Johann,  the  waltz-king,  40 
Strobach,  Herr,  43 

presents  author  to  Count  Golu- 
chowski,  44 
Suez  Canal  deal,  Mr.  Bennett's,  247 
Sutherland,  Duchess  of,  26 


Tailor  and  Cutter,  the,  a  moment- 
ous article  In,  21 


Telegrams,  Biblical,  255 

Theron,  Daniel,  168 

Thirty  Years'  War,  the,  208 

Tilsit,  the  Peace  of,  127 

Times,  The,  and  the  obituary  notice 
of  Queen  Victoria,  207 

Tirpitz,  Admiral  von,  81 

Torpedo,  the,  importance  of,  87 

Triple  Alliance,  the,  Italy  and,  187 

Trubetzkoi,  Prince,  165 

Truth,  Mr.  Labouchere's  exposures 
in,  62 

Turkey,  Sultan  of,  70 

war  with  Greece,  54,  57,  242 

Turkish  atrocities,  war  correspond- 
ents and,  54,  55 
Commander-in-Chief,  the,  53 

Twain,  Mark,  60 


United  States,  the,  and  Great 
Britain :  proposed  political 
union,  88 


Vaughan,  Cardinal,  10 

a  cliaracteristic  instruction  by, 

11 
his  personality,  12 
Vendfime,  Ducliesse  de,  118 
Venice,  a  firemen's  funeral  at,  68 

author's  impressions  of,  67 
Venosta,  Visconti,  192 
Vernois,  Gen.   von  Verdy  du,  his 
misgivings  of  the  future,  181 
Verona,  author's  visit  to,  66 
Victoria,  Queen,  and  Lord  Ronald 
Gower,  26 
Diamond  Jubilee  of,  59 
Sir  William  Jenner's  prescrip- 
tion, 208 
Vienna,  a  Press  ball  in,  43 
author  in,  35 
festive  scientists  in,  41 
Visiting  cards.  Lord  Ronald  Gower 

and,  24 
Voltaire,  funeral  of,  15 


Wagner,  Professor  Adolph,  116 
Waldersee,  Count,  Bismarck  and,  98 
Walewska,  Countess,  137 
Walter,  Arthur,  206 
267 


Index 


War  correspondents,  Edhem  Pasha 
and,  53 
Japan  and,  242 
Warsaw  in  revolt,  127  et  seq. 

its  resemblance  to  Dresden,  130 
modernity  of,  131 
old  market-place  of,  129 
the    Tsar's    manifesto :     street 
scenes,  132  et  seq. 
Water  as  cholera  carrier,  253 
Watts,  G.  F.,  author's  introduction 

to,  19 
Waugh,  Arthur,  translation  of  Car- 
men Sylva's  poem,  120 
Westbury,  Lord,  and  his  cure,  208 
Westminster,  Duke  of,  29 
White,  Andrew  D.,  79 

recall  of,  80 
White,  Henry,  U.S.  representative 
at  Algeciras  Conference,  192 
Whitman,  Sidney,  a  Biblical  tele- 
gram, 255 
a  busy  year,  33 

additional  impressions  of  Mos- 
cow revolution,  171 
an  unfulfilled  prophecy,  115 
and  Bismarck  :  a  personal  note, 

106 
and  death  of  Prince  Bismarck, 

91-2 
and  King  Carol,  59,  118 
and  Sir  E.  Burne-Jones,  17 
attends  a  memorable  dinner,  194 
corrects  Press  "  howlers,"  123 
declines    presentation    to    the 

Kaiser,  183 
Dr.  Herzl  and,  42  et  seq. 
entry  into  journalism,  1  et  seq. 
fire  at  his  hotel,  160 
German  military  experts  and,  77 
guest  of  Prince  Billow,  211 
impressions  of  Warsaw,  127 
in  Armenia,  71 
in  Vienna,  34 
interviews  editors  of  the  German 

Press,  76 
introduced  to  Cardinal  Vaughan, 

10 
Lord  Ronald  Sutherland  Gower 

and,  20-32 
meets  Mr.  Labouchere,  61 


Whitman,  Sidney — continued 

Moscow  G.P.O.  :  a  visit  to,  149 
Queen       Victoria's       Diamond 

Jubilee,  59 
**  Reminiscences  of  Prince  Bis- 
marck," 96,  117 
resigns    post    as    Berlin    corre- 
spondent, 189 
resumes  connection  with  Herald, 

127 
Sir  Charles  Dilke  and,  6-10 
surprises  a  valet,  39 
the  Chinese  Minister  and,  12 
the    Herald  and   the  Algeciras 

question,  188 
the  Moscow  postal  strike,  143 
tribute  to  Prince  Bismarck,  94-6 
tribute  to  W.  T.  Stead,  231 
two  obituary  articles  on  King 

Edward  VIL,  210 
visits   Salonica   and   Constanti- 
nople, 50  et  seq. 
witnesses  Moscow  revolution,142 
writes   a   history  of   Karlsbad, 
207 
Wilczek,  Count  Johann,  34 
William  L,  Emperor,  on  Gambetta, 
197  , 

William  II.,  Emperor,  a  rebuff  for, 
93 
and      Houston      Chamberlain's 

"  Foundations,"  220 
and  the  Jews,  219 
Bismarck  on,  227 
Court  festivities,  220 
Daily  Telegraph  interview,  225 
exuberant  vanity  of,  121 
German  Press  and,  183 
personality  of,  182 
the  death  of  Bismarck,  93 
the  Jameson  Raid,  65 
Witte,  Count,  138,  145 

offers  Alexander  Gutschkof!   a 
portfolio,  167 
Wolseley,  Lord,  31 
Woman,  her  part  in  the  Great  War, 
238 

Zemstvo  Congress,  the,  167,  169 
Zionist  Movement,  founder  of,  42 
Zola,  his  defence  of  Dreyfus,  204 


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